


Whispers in the Trees

by hazzayoudoing



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boarding School, Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Mystery, OT5, Oral Sex, Secret Crush, Sexual Tension, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:03:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7731421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazzayoudoing/pseuds/hazzayoudoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Any chance you’ve got a mobile phone on you, Curly?” Louis asks. Before he gets a chance to think about answering, he feels Louis’ hands begin to pat him down. Harry breathes in deeply and begs his body not to move, wills himself not to care that Louis has just reached into the small pocket of his ridiculous dressing gown and grabbed his mobile. </em>
</p><p>  <em>Louis dials 911 while Harry focuses on his breathing, his lips feeling a little numb. He needs to calm down. That girl is dead. He’s about 99% sure of it. He’s never seen a dead body before. He and Louis, they’re witnesses to a murder now. All he wanted tonight was to have a bake and to be able to fall asleep peacefully.</em></p><p>Or, an AU in which Louis and Harry witness a murder on the pristine campus of Wellington Academy, their posh boarding school. They band up with their friends and family members to attempt to solve the whole thing—since the murderer has decided to target them next. Featuring a healthy dose of sexual tension and falling in love, a turtle named Plimpton, the best picnic you’ve never been on, and the many, varied nicknames that Harry Styles is given from Niall Horan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all my fabulous betas for helping me polish this thing up! Big group hug to: [Jess](http://littlelarrybirds.com/), [Steph](http://stephhiee.tumblr.com/), [Molly](http://illtakeallfour.tumblr.com/), [Victoria](http://akingbesideyou.tumblr.com/), and [Purabi](http://greenylovesbluey.tumblr.com/)! You are all fabulous, amazing ladies and I appreciate the extra eyeballs. You're the best, never change.
> 
> If you're looking to get into the right mood for this fic, check out my [8 Tracks playlist](http://8tracks.com/amnicr/whispers-in-the-trees)! Chock-full of solid tunes to play while you read this.

  

**H**

 

The dorm halls are quiet tonight. Around every corner, someone could catch Harry, but he makes his way through the maze without so much as a creak from the floorboards.  He tugs his navy dressing gown closer around his waist and holds his breath as he passes three more rooms in the underclassmen boys’ dormitory. Wellington Academy, the boarding school he’s been attending for the last year or so, is notoriously strict. That was part of the agreement he was made to contend with when he got into this school; curfews, minimum grade requirements and uniforms – consisting of ties and blazers for the boys and knee-length skirts for the girls. Everything clean cut, everything polished. America still feels like a foreign land to him, and it’s been a year of adjustments. Harry still isn’t too keen on the food served in the dining hall—but the desserts though, those he fancies quite a bit.

A whiff of expensive cologne hits his nose as he passes the last room before the stairs. Everything smells of money here and he still feels out of place despite being a very worldly sophomore. Being a scholarship student gives him a bit of a complex. He’s always comparing himself to his classmates, knowing most are much more well-off than him. Harry pauses at the foot of the stairs, one slipper-clad foot hovering over the first step. A sharp creak behind him makes him turn, his tousled curly hair bouncing long after his head snaps back to scan the hallway. A boy with offensively blonde hair steps out of his own room, stumbling into the dark. A slant of moonlight hits his face and Harry breathes a small sigh of relief. No one is here to bust him.              

“Niall,” he whispers, snapping his fingers. Niall’s eyes are closed and Harry watches with some amusement as he bumps slightly into one of the walls of the hallway. He nearly topples over the framed portrait of Cadley Wellington, the founder of their school, while only clad in a white shirt and his favorite pair of Irish-themed boxers. Niall Horan is Harry’s closest mate at school. His sleepwalking habits provide endless entertainment for Harry, though they usually kick in around finals week. It’s still pretty early in the semester currently so Niall must be stressed about something. Harry will never forget the first time, freshman year, waking up to Niall standing over his bed the one night he forgot to lock his door. About scared him to death. Niall bumbles some more, never once snapping himself out of his dream.

“Need more bubbles… eh… no, no I told ye to feed Plimpton before we left,” Niall mutters, his Irish accent seeping through much thicker than it does when he’s awake. Harry pads over to Niall and gently steers him back towards his dorm room door, which has been left ajar.

“Plimpton’s fed, it’s time for bed,” Harry sing-songs, shoving Niall back at his small twin bed on his side of the room. Harry sweeps his eyes over to the other side of Niall’s room, noting his absent roommate and his snoozing turtle. Niall and Harry were going to room together but they weren’t quick enough on the sign-ups, leaving Harry with a single and Niall with a runaway roommate more often than not. Niall curls back up on his bed, still muttering to himself, as Harry throws a blanket on him and ensures he’s not about to danger himself again.

At that, Harry sneaks back out of Niall’s room and shuts the door softly behind him, beginning his way back out of the dormitory. He takes the stairs quicker than he’d usually dare in the dark and manages to reach the ground floor undetected. He leans slightly on the gigantic dormitory entrance door, peeking his head outside and checking for any roaming resident advisors or campus staff. The campus grounds, dotted by cheerful gas lamps, are deserted and cast in shadow from the stars and soft moonlight above. Harry steps outside, relishing in the feeling of being out when he’s supposed to be in. It’s become a bit of a routine for him these last few weeks. His heart rate begins to slow as he makes his way across campus.

Wellington is known for its beauty in the daytime but it has a surreal quality when the sun finally goes down. The campus is nestled in the Berkshires, upstate New York. Harry had never set foot on American soil until the day he and his mum moved him to school. He was not here because he had rich parents, like most of the other kids whose families owned small countries, or ruled them. His mum, Anne, was just a dressmaker back home in England – Cheshire, to be exact. His older sister, Gemma, was off studying fashion at the University of the Arts in London. He was the first of his family to hop across the pond. His mum’s brother, Daniel, was on the board of directors at Wellington and pulled a few strings to get him in. He was a good student and could’ve done okay in England, but he wanted a fresh start—a chance to become a new person, independent from who he was back home.

Harry creeps through the night, feeling on edge as he makes a beeline for the school kitchens. His favorite dining hall cook, Juliana, often leaves the backdoor open for him to sneak in. Back in Cheshire, he worked at the local bakery with a bunch of lovely older ladies ( _my harem_ , he’d call them as they giggled). Baking is familiar. It’s comfort, it’s home to him, so he likes to dabble in the kitchens over recipes Juliana’s prepared. On nights he can’t sleep, on nights when he’s agonizing over his too-tall frame or some lurking pimple on his face, on nights when he can’t bear the thought of being probably the only secretly gay kid in all of Wellington– the kitchens bring him a clearer state of mind.

He passes building after building, never once being seen, and makes it to the backdoor of the kitchen without a hiccup. The dining hall is huge and gleaming- everything at Wellington is all Gothic architecture, meticulously groomed grounds, and rich interiors. The kitchen is no disappointment; he flicks on a light and it glints across the shining surface of Juliana’s workstation. Tonight’s worries on Harry’s mind are the comments he saw on Twitter regarding his presentation in Art History earlier in the day. He had stuttered his way through the first 10 minutes of the presentation and blushed as red as he possibly could. Niall was in the audience, cringing slightly but also trying to give him encouraging nods.

_@PanDan : Fairy Harry falters yet again. Granman’s class would be so dull without him._

_@MissKekeZ : His blush was the best part. I need to ask him the color; I think it’d look good on me…_

_@Juniper4You : Can we just take a public vote to get Styles out of our class? Between his stutter and his British accent, I’m pretty over it._

At Wellington, there is no room for error. After the presentation, Harry had a bit of a mental breakdown in an art supply cupboard he found outside his classroom. He had let out a few sobs, fully relishing in the irony of himself standing “in the closet” feeling miserable. Trapped. Awkward. He felt like the only person who really understood him at Wellington was Niall. He hadn’t judged him at all when he had walked in on Harry looking at a spot of gay porn on his laptop. Harry had snapped his computer shut so quickly he nearly broke it when Niall came in, brandishing an open bag of popcorn and spouting off about some football match he’d just seen. He had tried desperately to hide the bulge in his trousers but it was like Niall had hardly noticed. A few moans and grunts were still sounding from his computer and Harry was frantic trying to cover them up. Niall just grinned at him and slapped his back, causing Harry to shriek.

“So you’re into dudes? That’s ace. What do you think of my hair? I dyed it again last night and I assume you can tell me if it looks like total shite,” was all Niall had said. And Harry had smiled, his grin stretching out and threatening to break his face in two.

But being in class around other people was totally different. The smug Twitter comments echo in Harry’s mind as he pulls open the refrigerator of the kitchen, hunting the ingredients needed to make a lovely chocolate custard pie. He methodically grabs flour for his crust, sprinkling it across the surface of the workstation. The dough takes him no time at all, mixing it until it’s perfectly crumbling. He’s covered in flour, knowing full well it’s probably in his hair, but he doesn’t care. There’s solace to be found in the movements.

“Pay them no mind,” he whispers to himself with every ingredient he adds. It’s a phrase his mum used to say to him when he’d come home from a particularly humiliating day at school back in England. He chills the dough and begins on the custard filling, scrounging for the spare blocks of dense, bittersweet chocolate that Juliana hides for him behind packages of instant oats.

He whisks, and coos to himself as he rolls out the crust into the pie pan and fills it with the custard. The scent of chocolate is thick in the air and he can hardly contain his excitement about the finished product as he leaves it to set for a few hours. He digs around in his dressing gown for his phone, checking the time. He’s at a few minutes after 1 AM and figures he’s got a few hours to spare, so into the fridge his pie goes. Harry feels calmer now, the tension he’d felt in his long limbs as he’d walked across campus has lifted a little. The night is still young, so he moves on.

Back outside, Harry decides to stroll through the rest of campus grounds. The darkness is all-consuming as he makes his way deeper into the heart of Wellington, his slippers soft on the cobblestoned pavement. He comes up on the library, separated from where he stands by a long, ivy-covered tunnel. A sudden sound panics him and he shoves himself against one wall of the tunnel, slightly covered by an errant hedge bush. He ducks his head out, squinting in the dim light. A flash of chestnut hair, a boy dressed in a button-down shirt with his hair sticking every which way. Harry’s heart does a small leap when he realizes exactly whom he’s staring at, the captain of the school’s football team, the one always dancing on his toes and kicking a ball around everywhere he goes. _Louis Tomlinson_. He studies him from where he hides, wondering what he’s doing out at this hour.

Louis commands attention in every situation; there’s not a person on campus that doesn’t know him, doesn’t want to be him. He has an easy charm about him, a quick laugh, and he’s a fellow Brit like Harry. Harry’s never spoken to Louis in his life but has spent many a night in his dorm room alone, fantasizing about him. Harry feels a quick rush of heat spread throughout his body as he remembers, keeping his eyes on Louis and straining to see what he’s up to. Louis looks affronted from here. He’s actually rolling his eyes, looking put out. Harry lets himself peek out farther from the bush, finally getting Louis, beautiful Louis, in his full view. His heart sinks. There’s a girl there, on her knees, staring up at Louis with stars in her eyes and Harry wants to die right on the spot.

 

**L**

 

“Would you please get a move on?” Louis quips from the darkened doorway of his fake girlfriend’s dorm room. It’s well after two in the morning, and this is his big, fake, romantic gesture. Valentina, all long dark hair and legs for days, looks up at him with a flutter of her eyelashes. She’d been begging him to be more spontaneous for months now. Valentina is a bit dim and annoyingly obsessed with Louis. He has a reputation to uphold and slipping on the mask of hetero-Louis is much easier than dealing with the never-ending questions he’d get from his father if he actually came out. Not to mention the crushing disappointment or the unwelcome curiosity from most of his friends at Wellington. It’d change his entire life, and not necessarily for the better.

Valentina is primping in her mirror, pouting her lips. Louis shoves a hand through his hair, pulling on it just a little so he feels something. Anything. He and Valentina had been voted Most Popular by their senior class. Dating her, or pretend-dating her, was a solution to a niggling problem that had been plaguing him for the last few years. Every girl wanted to be with Louis – but Louis only had eyes for the boys. He loves everything about the male form. The realization that he was gay was something he’d understood about himself early on. Only his mother and eldest sister, Lottie, know the truth, and they’ve agreed to keep it quiet to help keep family business civil.

His parents, quite happily divorced, had enrolled him in Wellington Academy back when he was only 12. His mum and dad were quite wealthy and had shuttled off him and his siblings to various schools around England and America when they felt they were old enough. Louis had wanted to get away, to leave his father and the stifling streets of Doncaster behind. Putting an ocean between himself and some of the more unpleasant memories of his childhood was the best thing to happen to him. Lottie was also enrolled at Wellington.

“You have to look after her while you’re out there. She looks up to you, love,” his mum had said the last time he’d been home. Lottie was only younger by a few years. He saw her from time to time on campus, and they had a weekly standing breakfast date. He’d been in New York, away from the rest of the family with the exception of holidays, for such a long time now. It was easy to be himself around Lottie, his true self.

But for everyone else in his life, he still had to hide. That’s where Valentina came in. She was an easy distraction to excuse away some of his more flamboyant behavior. So maybe he’d cock his hip while speaking to her on his mobile, or he’d strut a little while keeping his hand around her waist while they walked to class. It was nothing he couldn’t handle for now.

“Where are you taking me?” Valentina asks, shutting the door finally and inching closer to Louis. He presses a half-hearted kiss to her forehead so he can avoid having to bear a makeout session right this second.

“Can’t tell you that, love, it’s a surprise,” Louis says, grabbing her hand and trying to entwine their fingers in a way that isn’t at all awkward. He leads her through the dark hallway, making sure to move fast so they won’t be seen. He tends to skate on thin ice at school. Louis has a bit of a wild streak flowing through his veins. There’s nothing that makes him prouder than having the headmaster call his father to give him the news that Louis is wreaking havoc again.

They dash outside and she giggles as they run. Louis is trying hard to suppress his annoyance. How he’s tied himself to her, this vapid girl, for the last year is a total wonder. They are moving at a clip now, the trees and buildings passing by them in a blur. They’ve just reached the tunnel by the library when he feels Valentina tug on his hand. The next thing he knows, his back is pressed against cool slabs of stone.

“Oh, we haven’t quite reached our destination yet,” Louis remarks nervously, trying to keep it light. He can tell that Valentina doesn’t really care much about where they are headed. She’s begun to attack his neck so violently with her lips that he’s worried she’ll nip at some necessary artery. He cranes his head back, trying to inch away from her the best he can, but it isn’t working. Soon she is pawing at the front of his shirt. Her fake nails click against the buttons as she begins to work his shirt open, exposing his chest. The cool night breeze tickles his skin. Louis isn’t quite sure what to do beyond rolling his eyes and muttering slightly to himself as she continues.

“God, you’re so hot right now, I just want to eat you up,” Valentina growls. She plants a kiss on his lips; a kiss he doesn’t fully return and his eyes grow wider as she moves downward onto her knees.

“No eating, please —” he begins, but Valentina shushes him. Louis lets his eyes roam across the campus grounds from where he stands. He hadn’t expected her to try to get him off tonight- especially not in the middle of campus. They haven’t had sex yet, but Louis has had to play along enough to keep her convinced that he actually wants her. He begins trying to think of things to get his dick up in his pants. Dudes. Reasonably attractive guys he’s studied in class while he was supposed to be paying attention. That one particular bloke he’s been eyeing in the dining hall over the last few months. He’s never met him before but he’s been keeping tabs on his comings and goings.

Louis remains silent as Valentina unbuckles his belt and begins to unbutton his trousers. He closes his eyes and envisions that boy, the one with the chocolate curls. That boy who is always hovering by the dessert table like a freak. He’s tall, a bit awkward and bumbling, but Louis finds him quite endearing. He seems so innocent, so beautiful to watch. Louis feels cold air on his thighs, his trousers down around his ankles now. He leans his head back again against the stone, wanting desperately to have that boy in front of him now instead of Valentina. He opens his eyes lazily; sweeping his gaze over by the dark hedges near Admin, and about has a heart attack. A pair of piercing green eyes attached to the boy with those chocolate curls is staring at him with a look of open panic on his face. Louis nearly chokes, but Valentina beams up at him like she caused a cry of lust.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” Valentina mews from below. Louis stares down Curly, as he now calls him in his mind, and shoots him a quick wink and a smirk.

 _“My god, have I hallucinated him into existence?”_ he thinks to himself.

Before he has a chance to answer Valentina, a guttural scream pierces the night. Valentina jumps to her feet, broken out of her determination of giving him a half-hearted blowjob.

“Oh my god,” she squeals, running out of the tunnel and back towards her dormitory without giving even a second look to Louis.

“Valentina, what the fuck,” he whispers desperately. He has no idea where the scream has come from, hasn’t even torn his eyes away from the boy with the curls in hiding. His dick feels slightly heavy but a small trickle of terror is simultaneously blooming in his chest. Another scream rings out. It doesn’t sound like a scream from a student lost in the throes of passion… it holds something more sinister.

Curly looks braced to move and Louis watches, stunned, as he thrusts his tall, lanky body out of his hiding spot and onto the open campus green. With his fluffy dressing gown billowing in the wind, Louis watches him take a few uncertain steps in a few different directions. The slippers he’s got on are doing him no favors against the dew-covered grass. He seems to be squinting at something higher up from where he stands. Louis has no choice but to pounce before anything else happens, so he moves from his position against the stone walls of the tunnel.

“Oi, Curly. What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, creeping away from the tunnel and closer to the petrified boy in front of him. He is well aware that his trousers are still unzipped and caught around his ankles, that the collar of his shirt is still unbuttoned. He kicks his legs out of his trousers completely before slowly tiptoeing out onto the darkening campus green.

“Look,” he hears Curly whisper in a low voice as he stares rapt at the sight above him. High atop the Student Union building, someone is struggling. Two people. Their shadows shift in the dark, difficult to make out as nighttime deepens around them. It’s as if Louis, Curly, and the two on the roof are the only four people in existence on campus. Louis observes as Curly begins to shake, his hands (quite big, Louis can't help but note) trembling. Another shout echoes from above both of their heads and Louis knows they need to flit out of sight from whoever is causing all the drama. He figures he only has a few seconds before they are flat-out spotted, so he moves fast. Years of footie have made him quick on his feet, with instincts quicker than a cat. In one swift move, he tugs on the cinch of Curly’s dressing gown and places another hand on his hip — dragging him back into the shrubbery near Admin. Louis lets out a small huff at the force of Curly’s body against his, tightening his grip and pressing the length of his body against his back.

“Oops,” Curly whispers, still shaking a bit as they settle into the darkness of the leaves around them.

“Hi,” Louis says, fighting a tiny grin.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**H**

 

Harry can’t actually believe this is happening. If it wasn’t for the terrifying display on the roof in front of him right now, he would mark this down as the most erotic experience he’s had to date with another guy. Louis Tomlinson, this magnificent boy who keeps calling him Curly, currently has his semi-hard dick pressed against the small of his back. Wearing only boxer briefs, no less. Harry gulps, his eyes still on the two struggling on the roof.

“We have to help them,” he says, his voice coming out more like a croak. Louis shifts behind him, tightening his grip.

“There’s nothing we can do, mate. Between you and me, I think we’re best off here instead of getting in the middle of this. If I were you, Curly, I would not make a run for it at this very moment,” says Louis. Harry tries not to notice the pleasing lilt of his voice, smooth like honey. The back of Harry’s neck tingles with every breath from Louis. They both watch as the scene plays out to a tragic end on the roof.

The struggle between the two ends quickly. Harry tenses as he now realizes it's a girl on the roof fighting against her attacker. Time seems to speed up around them as the girl cries out once more before she's pushed over the edge of the building. Harry has never seen a body in motion like this. She hits the dewy grass and the sound is something he’ll never forget. He cries out, unable to help himself. Louis slaps a hand against his lips, shh-ing into his ear. His fingertips smell of clove cigarettes and a hint of cinnamon. From above, the attacker leans out and peers around for the sound of the cry.

“Oh fuck. Fucking _shit_. Is she dead? Did he hear me?” Harry mumbles against Louis’ hand, breathing in a shallow breath. He’s on the verge of a panic attack. He squints in the darkness to make out the silhouette of the attacker. All he sees is a crop of spiked hair and a slim frame. Harry gets pulled back deeper into the hedges against his will, Louis’ grip on him as tight as ever. He hasn't stopped shaking once.

“We need to call an ambulance, right? That's what you do when something like this happens. Saw it on the telly,” Louis whispers slowly, giving Harry’s hip an imperceptible squeeze. Harry nods. It’s all he can do with Louis’ hand still against his lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from the girl now. She’s completely still. Unmoving.

“Any chance you’ve got a mobile phone on you, Curly?” Louis asks. Before he gets a chance to think about answering, he feels Louis’ hands begin to pat him down. Harry breathes in deeply and begs his body not to move, wills himself not to care that Louis has just reached into the small pocket of his ridiculous dressing gown and grabbed his mobile. Louis dials 911 while Harry focuses on his breathing, his lips feeling a little numb. He needs to calm down. That girl is dead. He’s about 99% sure of it. He’s never seen a dead body before. He and Louis, they’re witnesses to a murder now. All he wanted tonight was to have a bake and to be able to fall asleep peacefully.

“Yes, hello, there’s been an accident. At Wellington Academy...what?... can you quite hear me? I can’t speak up much more… no listen, my accent has nothing to do with this, you need to understand...,” Louis whispers into the phone. Harry watches in horror as the murderer begins to walk out of view, disappearing from the roof completely. He begins to try and get Louis’ attention to the change.

“He’s gone,” he whispers more to himself than to Louis, not wanting to take his gaze off the roof in case the guy returns. His heart is going a mile a minute, his stomach doing somersaults. By now, the culprit could be anywhere. He could be searching for him and Louis this instant. Harry struggles out of Louis’ grip while he continues to speak on the phone and whirls around to face him.

“Louis, we need to move. Now,” Harry says, stumbling backwards on his feet a little to put some distance between their two bodies. Louis shoots an eyebrow up at the mention of his name. Harry blushes and feels a small tugging feeling in his chest. Louis looks like a god, standing in the rapidly fading moonlight with his shirt undone and his pants snug around his hips. Harry pointedly decides not to look at his thighs, wanting to just get out of this entire situation and forget it ever happened. This is not the time to objectify. This is more a time to panic. Louis licks his lips and finally hangs up the phone call, glances back up at Harry as if being broken out of a daze.

“Love, you need to relax,” Louis says, looking at Harry like he’s a lanky bomb about to go off. Harry feels like he might explode.

“I can’t, _we_ can’t. The guy who did this, he’s gone. He could be anywhere,” Harry says with a crack in his voice, endlessly playing with a frayed edge of his dressing gown. The fabric moves between his fingers. Back and forth, over the same spot. Louis is staring at him with a mixture of pity and something else he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Curly, stop,” Louis says in a soft voice, reaching his hand out to still Harry’s frantic movements. Harry’s hand burns at the feeling of Louis’ fingertips brushing over his. They ghost over him and just like that, as quickly as it began, Louis isn’t touching him anymore.

“Is the ambulance on its way?” he asks. Harry feels a little on the verge of tears.

“Yes, on their way,” Louis says, looking stricken. He busies himself with buttoning up his dress shirt a little. Dawn is just beginning to break around them and the weight of what’s really happened is hitting Harry like a wave. Campus will be coming alive in just a few hours, but for the poor girl behind them it’s stopped for good. A tear escapes him, then.

“You can’t cry on me now, Curly, you’ve been doing so well,” Louis says, taking a tentative step closer to Harry. Harry struggles to hold back a sniffle. He’s this close to flat out sobbing. Louis looks anxious, the stress of the evening clearly weighing on him even though he’s keeping his conversational tone light.

“Why do you call me Curly, it’s not my name,” he whispers out as a few more tears fall. Louis approaches him with slow movements, wrapping his arms around Harry with such a softness, as if he thinks Harry might break in two.

“Then what is your name?” Louis asks in Harry’s ear. Harry’s arms shakily encircle Louis’ waist. He feels a bit grounded now, like Louis is an anchor keeping him from floating far, far away out into the terrible world.

“It’s Harry,” he says. They hug each other for only a few seconds, complete with some awkward back-patting from Louis, but to Harry it might as well be years. In the distance, sirens wail. Someone is coming to fix this. Maybe to put it right.

“And how did you know my name?” Louis asks as they step apart. He drags a hand across his face, looking tired. Harry’s heart speeds up a little at the question. He forgot he gave himself a bit away earlier.

“I just did, I guess. Everyone knows you and your girlfriend,” Harry says, feeling bold. He wants to turn around and face away from Louis, watch the ambulances arrive and see how he can be of any help. But he doesn’t. He keeps his green eyes on Louis’ blue ones. Louis smiles a tiny bit, one that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. The light around them continues to soften. They stand in a slightly uncomfortable silence, Harry’s slippers slick with dew from the grass and making his toes cold.

“God, I need a cigarette. And I need to get my trousers back before we split,” Louis says finally, turning back towards the tunnel.

“Split? No, we can’t leave. We can’t just leave her here, alone,” Harry says incredulously, following Louis as he heads back to his discarded bottoms.

“We can, and we are,” Louis answers as he sticks one leg into his trousers and flicks a bit of fringe out of his eyes. Harry watches him dress with greedy eyes. “I don’t love the idea of being here when the cops show up. I’ve already got a few hits against me with the disciplinary committee and they’re just looking for a chance to kick me off the football team.” Harry feels like his blood is about to boil over. There’s a quiet rage coursing through him now, quieting his feelings of lust and worry and he unleashes it right then.

“Fuck the committee,” he says in a rush. Louis zips up his trousers and crosses his arms, a frown playing at the edges of his lips.

“Honestly, Louis, you can’t be serious. We need to make sure… we have to make sure someone takes care of her,” Harry sputters. Tears are sprouting up again. He truly can't believe him, Mr. Golden Boy of campus.

“Have you quite finished, Curly?” Louis asks. Harry rolls his eyes.

“And another thing,” Harry continues, “not all of us have rich mums and dads who can drop everything to save us from getting kicked out of bloody sports. If anyone could get into trouble over this, it’s me. I think your parents would be a lot more lenient about you being helpful to a murder investigation than quibbling over details about if you were out after curfew.” He glares at Louis, and Louis glares right back.

“Excuse me, _Curly,_ but you know _nothing_ about my situation. Don’t act like you know me, because you don’t, love. Just my name,” Louis says, leaning against the stone walls of the tunnel. Harry grimaces at the memory of that girl, Valentina, on her knees in front of him. It already feels like a lifetime ago.

“Have you forgotten someone’s right over there, dead? Did something change all of a sudden to make you act like this is inconveniencing you? We can’t leave,” Harry says, gesturing back to the expanse of grass where that girl is still lying. Louis walks over to where Harry is standing and pats him lightly on the shoulder.

“Fine, Harold. Have it your way. We’ll stay put until the ambulance gets here, but then we’re off. Happy?” Louis responds.

“Brilliant,” Harry says. A scowl settles on his face. An ambulance crests one of the hills far across campus. Harry edges away from Louis, not wanting to be too close to him. He starts to wonder how the rest of this day is going to pan out. He's completely exhausted. Louis makes a few small clicking noises with his tongue as they wait for the paramedics.

“Not sure about your fringe,” Louis says, quite out of nowhere. Harry snorts. Unbelievable. The ambulances draw closer, the sound of police following close behind.

“What about my fringe?” Harry asks.

“Are you aware that you’ve got white powder all through your hair?” Louis asks. An ambulance bounds over the green and slows to a stop near Admin. Harry shakes his hair like a wild animal, trying like hell to get out the flour from earlier in the night. His cheeks are growing red with embarrassment at looking so sloppy. His fluffy dressing gown, his sodding slippers. The paramedics jump out of their vehicle, running over to the girl. The cops follow suit as they pull up to the scene. Harry and Louis stand stock-still, awaiting their fate. Harry spares one thought for his custard pie, still chilling in the refrigerator in the kitchens.

 

**L**

 

They’ve been in this windowless room for the last four hours and Louis is ready to kill someone, ready to commit a murder of his own, just to get his hands on a cigarette. He and this cop have been holed up in the basement of the Bursar’s office, going over the same things ad nauseum.

“So let’s go over this again. You and Mr. Styles both just happened to be out at,” the doughy cop begins, glancing down at his memo pad, “2:35 in the morning. And you both witnessed the incident, and you both decided to call it in after some debate. Is that how it went, Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis flinches at the name Styles. He wasn’t aware of Harry’s last name until this exact moment and God, how he loves it. He likes rolling the words ‘Harry Styles’ around in his brain until he forgets exactly what the cop was asking about.

“I’ve told you everything, mate. We’ve been at this for hours. I was out, he was out, the girl got pushed. Boom, done,” Louis says, stifling a yawn into his hand. His skin feels itchy. The dorm showers are calling his name.

“See, this is where we’re unsure about your timeline of events, Mr. Tomlinson. There is no evidence the girl was pushed,” the cop says, leaning back in his seat. Louis shifts and sits up a little, confused.

“Wasn’t pushed? Mate… I mean, sir… we saw it. Ask Curly… I mean, Harry. Did someone ask him? That’s how it happened, I swear it,” Louis says. Louis has a feeling Harry has gone over every specific detail with whoever is questioning him right now. He seems the type to not skimp on details. Louis feels a bit badly about how he treated him while they waited for the paramedics. He blames exhaustion.

“She left a note, kid. Suicide, cut and dry,” the cop answers, scratching his beard. Louis narrows his eyes at that.

“Well the note’s a fake then, innit? You should be looking for some guy. We saw it. We saw him,” Louis says, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on the table between them.

“We’re running some analysis just to make sure, but things seem to be pretty buttoned up regarding the nature of the death,” the cop says.

“It can’t be. And if you’re so sure, why have you had me here for four bleeding hours then?” Louis asks with a sneer.

“Standard procedure,” the cop responds, dropping his pen from his fingers and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But I think we’re done here. You’re free to go. It’s a real nice school you’ve got here.” Louis shoves away from the table, perplexed.

“So that’s it then? Really? I’m telling you what we saw and you’re just going to dismiss me? I could do your job better than you, pal,” he says. Another wave of exhaustion hits him. The cop just shrugs at him and waves him out. Louis makes his way up the stairs and through the corridors of the Bursar’s office, emerging into the sunlight. He blinks a few times and holds up his arm, shielding his eyes. With the sun blocked, he can see the crime tape markers over by Admin. The girl’s body is gone, removed and magicked away, as if it never happened. So now they have this neat little story, an easy little ending that’s wrapped up with a bow on it. It makes no sense. Louis hasn’t the faintest idea if Harry is still being questioned but decides it’s time to give in to his body and grab a shower and some shut-eye. He begins the walk through campus, uncomfortably noticing that the family of the girl seems to have arrived and is gathering with the headmaster outside the underclassmen girls’ dormitory. Their sobs echo across the campus grounds.

“It can’t be a suicide. It wasn’t,” he mutters to himself as he reaches his dorm. He climbs the stairs slowly, his craving for nicotine battling his absolute need for sleep. He nearly reaches his own door when a jovial, decidedly British voice stops him in his tracks.

“Louis! Oh my goodness, have you heard the news? I was down at breakfast and everyone was talking about Mariah Bentley, poor girl,” the voice says from behind him. Louis slowly spins around and winces a little. Too much has gone on the night before for him to be mentally prepared to take on Liam Payne, dormitory resident advisor and his best friend most of the time. But this is what he gets for bunking in the International Dorm. Upperclassmen get their pick and Louis had once liked the idea of hanging out with a bunch of semi-attractive lads from different parts of the world.

Liam stands stocky and tall, his poof of hair perfectly styled just so, as always. He’s clutching two egg, cheese and sausage burritos - one in each meaty hand of his. His uniform is pressed and perfectly put-together. Louis really can’t begin to deal with him right now. He’s like an overeager labrador.

“Yeah, Li, I really can’t discuss right now. Gonna hit the showers. What time is it, fucking half past eight in the morning yeah?” Louis mutters, starting to unlock his door. Liam’s never been one to take a hint though and follows right on his heels.

“Want a burrito?” Liam asks, his eyes doing a little sweep over Louis’ mess of a room. A perk of being on the International Floor with a bunch of lads is that there aren’t that many of them about, so Louis’ got a room to himself. He has clothes everywhere, covering every surface of the floor. A few errant footballs are piled up in a corner, and some Donny Rovers jerseys are hanging from his bedposts.

“No thanks. What I want is a shower, Liam, so maybe you could—” he begins. Liam takes a seat at his computer chair, making himself comfortable. Louis almost can’t believe it when Liam swings his (very polished) shoes up and onto his desk, settling in like they’re going to have a gabfest.

“So, this Mariah, did you know her? Do you even know what’s happened?” Liam asks, pausing to take a giant bite of his burrito. A bit of egg gets tangled in the scruff of his goatee. “Louis, really, you should try to clean up in here a bit. Where were you so early this morning anyway? Out with Valentina most like. I should write you up for that.”

“But you won’t, because you love me,” Louis sing-songs as he rummages in his cupboard for a fresh towel. He can feel Liam’s eyes burning on his back. Clearly he’s waiting for some kind of response. Mariah. He didn’t know her name was Mariah. The cop was careful to not even mention her name. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine any scenario where he ever saw that poor girl around campus. Nothing is coming to mind.

“And for your information, I _was_ with Valentina and we got caught up. As for the girl…” Louis says, pausing. How much does he reveal? How much does he spill to Liam this very instant? Would he believe him more than the cop?

“I didn’t know her. Never saw her in my life. S’ a shame though. I heard some of the lads discussing it downstairs.” Louis feels like a coward but right now he doesn’t know how to bring the murder out into the light of day. He isn’t even sure how to feel. Hasn’t begun to process the madness of the night. He faces Liam once more, clutching his towel.

“They found a note. Nasty stuff, suicide. Wish I’d known her, maybe could’ve helped,” Liam says, looking thoughtful and a little misty-eyed. Louis tightens his grip on his towel, his knuckles going white at the effort.

“Where’d they find this note?” he asks. Liam stuffs his second burrito into his mouth, chomping away and licking some of the cheesy bits off his fingers. He’s so proper every other second of the day, but put him in front of some food and he turns into an absolute monster.

“Was in her dormitory. The roommate found it, I guess, over in Hampstead Hall. She was a freshman. Word around was that she was upset about her grades, not getting high enough marks to stick around school. This is why I always offer tutoring services to the underclassmen. People need to use me,” Liam says, tutting his tongue.

“Yes, of course Li, you’re so brilliant. Now I’d really love to stand here all day talking with you, but I really need a shower. Please piss off for a bit, get to class, whatever you do as a responsible young man,” Louis says, nudging the front legs of Liam’s chair out so that he lands square on the floor with both feet off Louis’ desk. Liam stands up and dusts off his pressed khaki trousers, giving Louis a steady look.

“I’ll catch you later on, maybe have a game of footie on the quad? Brent Werther, that absolute wanker from Texas, bet me a tenner we can’t beat him and Andrew Summers to a two-on-two match,” Liam says as he makes his way out of Louis’ room. Louis gives a little nod and waves as Liam disappears, leaving him to his thoughts again. The shower continues to call his name so Louis pads down the hall, nearly deserted with everyone either on their way to class or a late breakfast. He steps into a stall and strips down. The water is on as hot as he can stand and he ducks under the stream. The stress of the last few hours begins to drip down the drain, just a little.

He places his hands against the shower walls, letting the jet of water cascade down his back. His thoughts richochet all over the place, from mulling over the murder to wondering where Harry is to dreading having to face Valentina. When the hot water begins to dull to a lukewarm spray, he steps out and towels off. He dresses quickly and decides to hit the breakfast bar in the dining hall. He needs to normalize, and this feels normal enough. Maybe he hallucinated last night completely. Maybe he was so exhausted and flustered after Valentina left that he just made the entire thing up. Maybe everything that happened is exactly as it seems to the police, a straight-forward suicide with nothing sketchy about it.

He walks into the dining hall, feeling half hopeful as he grabs his favorite cereal and a gigantic bowl. As he walks over to an open table, he sees two things that make him want to liquify his body and pool down to the floor. In one corner is Valentina, staring at him with a look that he knows means ‘trouble’. She’s coming at him quickly, her high heels clacking on the floorboards. She nearly knocks over a tiny freshman as she beelines for him. He takes her in for a second and then glances to his right to the other thing that’s made him want to hide. Harry’s sitting alone, wearing a very rumpled blazer and a crooked tie. His hair is wild, his eyes look puffy and he has, by some miracle, not seen Louis yet. Louis takes a seat and steels himself for hurricane Valentina. The eye of her storm will hit first.

“Where the hell did you go last night?” she asks, plunking down in the seat next to him. Her perfume nearly chokes him it’s so sweet, so cloying. You’d never know Valentina had been out all night. She looks just as put together as she always does.

“And a good morning to you, too,” Louis says, pouring some milk into his cereal. He’s unsure how to play this. To buy himself some time, he takes a gigantic bite of his Coco Pops.

“You know, I was scared out of my mind last night and the least you could’ve done was come after me,” Valentina begins, drumming her nails on the table. Louis chews, as slowly as he can. He glances up at her with his best innocent eyes. She’s not buying it.

“I mean really, Louis, as your girlfriend I’d hope my safety was important to you,” she goes on in a shrill voice. Louis swallows his mouthful and digs his spoon in for more. People around them are starting to stare, eager to see a fight go down. He flicks his eyes over to Harry, who looks absolutely miserable. Louis watches him half-heartedly poke at a pot of oatmeal. His heart breaks for him a little.

“Are you even listening to me? God, it’s like I’m the only one taking this relationship seriously,” she bursts out. Louis does a spit-take and dribbles some milk down his chin. He meets Valentina’s eyes and finally deigns to speak.

“I don’t know what you want me to say here. I’m trying to eat my breakfast, it’s been a really long night,” he says, reaching for her hand to appease her. “I’m sorry I didn’t go after you, I was freaked out myself,” Louis says, settling on something a bit sympathetic. Valentina narrows her eyes and wrenches her hand from his floppy grip.

“Oh it was a long night for _you_ , Louis. Oh that must’ve been _so hard._ You must’ve been _sick_ over me wandering campus alone. You know what, I’ve had enough of your bullshit,” Valentina says, rolling her eyes. Louis’ heart does a small leap. Has he pushed her to the edge already? Could his luck actually be that good?

“My bullshit? What ever do you mean?” he says lightly.

“I regret that hickie I gave you. I wish I’d never bothered,” she shoots back. Louis throws his head back and laughs at that. She’s so angry. He has no idea why she’s so angry but it’s kind of glorious.

“I regret letting you,” he says, biting back a laugh. He can’t help it.

“We’re done. We’re so over, Louis. So go take your posh British accent and your bizarre obsession with SOCCER because _that_ is what it’s called in America, and go to hell,” Valentina says, ending their conversation on a final note. All Louis can do is smirk a little, quite pleased with himself that he’s managed to rid her already in the span of just one evening’s fumble. Of course now this means he won’t have a fake girlfriend to cover for some of his behavior, but, really, who cares. He could die at any moment and he’d rather not do it being tethered to the most annoying girl on campus.

“I’ll go there happily, V, goodbye now,” Louis says with a small wave. Valentina gives him one last scathing look, gets up from the table with a lot of pomp and circumstance, and whirls off in the direction of some of her friends who will no doubt talk poorly about him within the next five minutes. Louis goes back to eating his cereal, chuckling a little to himself. He sneaks a glance again back to Harry’s table but is saddened to see he’s already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**H**

 

Harry drifts from class to class in a daze. Grief counselors roam the halls but he doesn’t stop to have a chat with any of them. He sees groups of girls sobbing quietly to themselves in various buildings. All of these people believe something tragic happened, _only_. Nothing more terrifying than that. This death is factual to them. It’s an obvious, foregone conclusion. No suspicion, no doubts. Just something sad with an answer to the ‘why’ found in some hand-written note.

Harry spends most of his day with a frown on his face, going over the things he knows to be fact in his mind. That girl, the freshman, was murdered. He’s certain of it. But the police didn’t believe a word he was saying. It probably didn’t help that he’d been crying for most of his interrogation. Hard to take someone seriously when they’re blubbering and back-pedaling. He kept mixing up his details, getting caught up in remembering useless things like how wet the grass was and the squabble he and Louis had over ringing an ambulance. Louis, touching his hands. Louis, giving him a soft hug. How was that even real?

In his last class of the day, Harry begins doodling absently in one of his notebooks. The sketch takes the shape of the silhouette he saw on top of the roof. A spike of hair, a tall, thin frame. It was no ghost he saw, it was a real person.

“Monsieur Styles, do you have a response?” his teacher, Madame Bargon, inquires. Harry pops his head up, heat creeping across his cheeks. Last class is French on Fridays and Harry’s thoughts have been swimming all day. He can hardly keep himself together in English—throwing French into the mix typically makes him all the more tongue-tied. Harry has no idea what the discussion is currently. He glances around the room, seeing no helpful faces. Niall isn’t in this class, and his other friends from around the dorm mainly opted to take Spanish. Harry bites his tongue before opening his mouth to embarrass himself again. What is one thing he knows in French? What is one line, one bloody line he can remember? Anything will do.

“Er… je suis allé au cinéma avec mon copain... et ma famille,” he says. The silence throughout the class is deafening. Madame Bargon looks at him like he’s an alien, and Harry tries to shift lower in his seat. In the stretch of silence, he has no distraction from the thoughts banging around in his brain. He closes his eyes for a moment and all he can picture is that girl, Mariah, hitting the ground. Full stop.

The bell rings just then, signalling class is over and freeing him from more possible ridicule. He’s jolted out of his living nightmare. The Twitter commentariat of his classmates tonight will be glowing, he’s certain of it. Harry gathers his books, glancing once more at his doodle, before making his way out of class. Madame stops him, a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, could you stay back for a second?” she asks. A stream of students march past the doorway, all of them looking forward to their weekends. Harry swipes at his eyes for a second. He wills himself not to cry again. Not over this. He takes a seat and doesn’t make eye contact with his teacher. Madame Bargon has a kind face, has always been nice to Harry. French has never been his strong suit and she’s never put him on the spot. Until now.

“I know I didn’t answer the way you wanted,” Harry begins. His voice has a warble in it. This is his feeble attempt at an explanation.

“Yes, I would like for you to pay attention in class more but that’s not what this is about. Your sentence was technically correct,” she says. Harry stares at the grooves in the desk, imagines all the former students who sat here. Did any of them have secrets? Had they ever known darkness, the kind that pulls you under and never lets you go? Harry’s thoughts shift. A flash of Louis appears in his mind, standing on the lawn, watching in horror at the sight in front of them both.

“What was the discussion about then, before you called on me?” Harry asks, eyes still lowered. He can hear a clock ticking, a faint noise that’s keeping time with his pulse. All he wants is to be left to go back to his dorm, crawl into bed, and sleep for eternity.

“We were conjugating verbs, Harry, but that’s not the issue at hand right now. Some of your teachers did mention to me that today, in particular, has been hard on you. I wanted to let you know that I’m available to discuss anything you’d like. I know unexpected loss is difficult, especially for someone so young,” Madame began.

“Other teachers were talking about me?” Harry asks, glancing up and meeting Madame’s eyes. Her face softens.

“We just all want to make sure you’re alright. The headmaster mentioned that you and another student had been questioned. Suicide is a very delicate matter, and we just all want you to feel safe,” Madame says. Harry would laugh if he wasn’t so tired. No one has listened, no one will ever listen to anything he says. He could lay out the whole story to Madame right here about the murder and she’ll probably pat his head and send him off to the counselor’s office. Then there will be weeks of therapy, stuffed into a dark room on a squishy couch talking about his feelings. Harry stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder.

“I appreciate the concern. I’ll be okay,” Harry says, managing a small smile. “Merci, Madame Borgan. Have a nice weekend.” Madame stares after him, looking to be not fully convinced of his _totally normal_ mental state.

“Au revoir, Monsieur Styles,” she says with a small sigh. The corridors of the language building are now empty as Harry trudges back to his dormitory. His phone vibrates in his pocket for the 8th time today. He checks the screen, noting it’s his mum again. She’s been calling and calling. He’s sure the headmaster called both his and Louis’ parents. He hasn’t worked up the courage to answer just yet. Isn’t sure what to say. What if his own mum doesn’t believe him? What then?

As Harry walks, he decides to take a detour to the kitchens to pop in and say hello to Juliana if she’s there. His poor chocolate custard pie has been sitting in that fridge for hours now and if there’s ever been a time to stress eat, it’s today. Harry rushes to the dining hall, hardly watching where he’s going as Valentina and a group of her friends passes him by.

“I can’t wait to go out tonight,” he hears her say. Her friends all agree, pumping their manicured fists in the air. They all look like pod people. They wear the same clothes, talk the same way. He has no idea what Louis sees in her, truly.

“The only way to get over someone is to go sink your claws into someone new,” one of her friends says. Harry stops in his tracks, stumbling over his feet a little. The girls continue walking and don’t give him another look. Harry’s heart hammers in his chest, a tiny bit of adrenaline trickling through his veins. This is new information. Has Louis, in the span of one evening, broken it off with his girlfriend? Not that Harry stands a chance, being as there’s the snag of Louis not being into guys. But, still. He begins to wonder who did the dumping. Was it Valentina, in some kind of screeching banshee kind of way? Or was it Louis, all sarcasm and smirks?

“Styles!” he hears, the shout echoing across campus. He squints in the sunshine, seeing Niall loping towards him. He’s got a bit of a bum leg but manages around pretty well.

“I see you’re awake and not sleep walking. Making progress, you are,” Harry says a little too loudly. He’s overcompensating right now. The lack of sleep is catching up with him, Madame’s conversation weighing heavy on his mind. Niall grins and punches him in the arm when he reaches Harry.

“Was I bad? Did something happen last night that I don’t know about? All I remember was dreaming about Plimpton,” Niall says, scratching his head. Harry laughs nervously and shrugs his shoulders. Last night he witnessed a murder, and Niall was cruising through dreamland thinking about his pet turtle. He doesn’t want to give himself away that he was out of the dorm last night. That will lead to more questions that he’s not ready to answer.

“Come with me to the kitchens. Juliana’s been letting me bake and I’ve got to pick up my latest creation,” Harry says, tugging on Niall’s blazer as he drags him towards the dining hall.

“Watch the leg, Henrietta. You know I can’t move fast,” Niall says, swatting at Harry’s tight grip on his shirt. Harry chuckles softly at the new nickname. For as long as he’s known Niall, Niall’s never been complacent with calling him just Harry. He used to question it, could not understand what Niall’s deal was. Harry had introduced himself about a thousand times when they first met, always thinking Niall had been hearing him wrong.

“Actually, it’s Harry,” he’d said in the showers after bumping into Niall with nothing but a small towel draped around his waist.

“Whatever you say, Hampton,” Niall had responded, all cheeky-like, slapping him playfully on the arse. Harry would send endless complaining texts about it to his sister, Gemma, and she’d suggested that perhaps Niall had a small crush on him. Harry resolutely knew that to not be true. So he eventually questioned Niall, calling him out on it.

“Why would I simply call you by your God-given name, when I can call you so many other things instead? For example… Horatio,” Niall had said finally during one of their first hang-out sessions. Early days found them stuffed into Niall’s dorm, a guitar and some crisps between them on a good night. Those were the days. The sun is dipping low in the sky. Early autumn at Wellington brings a bit of a chill to the air in the beginning of the semester. Harry tries to keep his tone light, hopes any shred of nervousness is gone from his voice.

“Henrietta, that’s a new one. I don’t know Nialler, I think it suits me,” Harry says. They make their way into the dining hall, Harry craning his neck to see if he can spot Juliana. As he’s trying to find her, Niall gives him a once-over.

“You look like hell, mate. What happened? Hey, did you hear about that girl? The one who—” Niall asks, swiping a spare curly fry off of someone’s tray as they pass. He pops it in his mouth, cutting his own question off, and gestures to Harry’s rumpled clothing. Harry continues his search for Juliana, not yet spotting her. His heart sinks at the question.

“I heard about her, yeah. It’s awful. And nothing happened outright, just slept in a bit too late is all. No worries,” he says in a tight voice.

“Can’t believe someone would throw themselves off a building. Gives me the creeps. So what’s with your puffy eyes then? Is this about yesterday?” Niall asks. Harry tenses for a moment, but remembers the fiasco of Art History.

“I was beating myself up about my presentation. Then I had a shit time in French today and I’m pretty over school at the moment. That’s all. Tired and happy it’s the weekend,” he says, his voice slow. He sounds like he’s not lying. He’s actually impressed with himself for staying collected, for once.

“You know all those twats on Twitter don’t know what they’re talking about,” Niall says, meeting Harry’s eyes. He’s loyal, through and through. He was there in that room, watched Harry crash and burn. But he still will rag on the enemy all the same, always proving to Harry what a good friend he is.

“Hard to remember. Sometimes I hate everyone here but you,” Harry says. He directs his attention back to the kitchens.

“Same, bro, same. You know, I was running a bit behind to English today and that total prick, Liam, that resident advisor— right— with the bloody God complex? He wrote me up! Fucker wrote me up and it’s _Friday_. You don’t do that to a man, you just don’t,” Niall says, getting pouty.

“Is he even allowed to do that? He doesn’t even run our dorm,” Harry asks, genuinely surprised. Niall throws his hands in the air, clearly exasperated.

“I called him on that. I fucking called him on it and he said he’s got a position of authority that, and I quote, _defies campus boundaries_. He’s off his rocker,” Niall says. Harry finally sees Juliana emerge from one of the food stations with a pot of what looks like beef stew in her hands. He claps his hands together once.

“There she is! I’m gonna go snag my pie. You want some?” he asks Niall.

“Nah. Payne’s got me in some kind of forced detention starting at 4 so I’ve gotta get out to the library. It’s like, you get written up three times for being late and the whole world turns on ya. It’s bullshit,” Niall responds. Harry shoots him a sympathetic look and begins to feel more relaxed as Niall walks away. He expects he’ll be hearing from Niall again later to rant more about Liam. Harry doesn’t know the guy well but has seen him patrolling around campus and playing on the school’s footie team. He and Louis tend to be glued to each other on campus.

Harry makes his way over to Juliana. She smiles when she sees him and he returns it, can’t help himself. She’s always been his favorite, is often slipping him extra desserts when she senses he needs a little extra comfort.

“Juliana, I seem to have left something important in the fridge,” he whispers, glancing around to make sure no one is paying him much attention. Juliana smoothes out her apron and cocks her head towards the kitchen doors.

“I never saw you, Harry, I swear it,” she says, giving him a wink. Harry feels a little revived as he sneaks his way back through the familiar kitchen doors. The workstation is as he left it. He discovers a small spot of chocolate smudged along the countertop and scrubs at it with his thumb. There, perfect. Everything in its place. His phone buzzes again. He fishes it out of his pocket and finds a new text from Gemma.

**_Gemma [3:42 PM] : H you’ve got to work with me here. Mum's in a panic. All OK?_ **

Harry debates for a moment or two, flinging the fridge open and seeing his pie sitting untouched. It glistens in the fridge light, looking beautiful. Amazing how he feels like a totally different person now than when he put the pie away to set so many hours ago. He pulls it out and rummages in some of the drawers to cover it for safekeeping. With a bit of cling film on, Harry shoves his phone (unanswered text and all) back into the pocket of his trousers and starts back to the dorms. He cradles the pie like it’s something fragile. He can’t imagine dropping it now. Him and this pie, they’ve been through too much. The boys’ dorm comes into his line of vision and he takes the steps up to his room two at a time. Everyone’s rowdy, making plans for their weekends.

Harry sidesteps two boys play-fighting in the hallway and balances his pie in one hand while fishing for his room key. It’s then that he stops, sees a slip of paper sticking out from the crack in his door. Harry quickly unlocks his door with a shaky hand and carefully sets the pie down on his desk, watching the slip of paper fall to the floor. He kneels to a crouch, opening it up - hopeful that maybe it’s Louis reaching out. Maybe he wants to meet for coffee. Instead, it’s something completely different.

 

**I know what you saw. Consider yourself next. Don’t try to hide because I’ll always find you.**

 

**L**

 

Louis jolts awake in the middle of the night, a slice of panic thrumming through his body. A noise sounds at his door and he can’t for the life of him get his heart to slow down. He squints at his alarm clock, bleary-eyed. 3:12 in the morning. He groans as he sits up in bed, eyes trained on the crack of dim light beneath his room door. His heart leaps again, straight into his throat. He can see shadows move just outside. Someone’s out there, shuffling around. His mind immediately jumps to the most obvious conclusion. It must be the killer, come to finish the job. This is how it ends.

He will die a total virgin and—more importantly—he will never get the chance to perhaps drink buckets of champagne on a yacht with a hot male model, like he’s always fantasized. The world is cruel and unfair. Louis tiptoes out of bed, hunting for something to whack the killer with. A football won’t work, neither will any of his school books. Not heavy enough. His eyes land on a 2-liter bottle of Mountain Dew he stashed behind his desk. It will have to do. He picks up the bottle in his right hand, struggling to lift it up above his head so he can smash it down on the villain outside.

“Christ, I’m out of shape,” he whispers to himself, his arm shaking with the effort of holding the bottle high. He creeps towards his door, sweating already. He’s shirtless and dressed only in his favorite pair of boxer-briefs. If this is how he goes, at least he’ll look pretty. Louis flings open the door, a flurry of insults dancing on his tongue. His eyes widen in surprise. Unless murderers have begun wearing fluffy dressing gowns, he’s certain he now has absolutely nothing to worry about.

“Don’t do it!” Harry whispers, inching back from Louis’ open door and bouncing against the wall behind him. He’s clutching what looks to be a pie pan and is visibly shaking from head to toe. Louis lowers the bottle, moves it in front of his crotch. This is so much better than being murdered.

“Curly, we truly have to stop meeting like this,” he quips, a smile playing at his lips. Harry looks spooked, pale and shivering, holding onto this pie pan like it might fly away at any moment. Louis ducks his head out and surveys the dark hallway. Liam hasn’t been roused so he considers this a good sign. Harry is silent, his eyes bugging out.

“Inside, love. Can’t be found sneaking about again, can we?” Louis says quickly, leaving Harry space to pass by him into his room. When Harry’s safely inside, Louis shuts the door and drops his Mountain Dew. Harry stands in the shadows, the room pitch black around them. Louis leans against the door, trying to gauge what he should do. He has so many questions. Where did that pie come from? Why does Harry look so haunted? It’s not like Louis had an easy time finding rest tonight, but the day's’ events had him dropping off to sleep quicker than he anticipated.

“I brought forks,” is the first thing Harry says, breaking his little silent streak. Louis smirks as Harry sets the pie pan gently down on his desk. Louis’ desk is a mess, full of papers and knick-knacks, framed photos of his sisters. Louis flicks on his desk lamp, the glow a bit reassuring. The day has been weird, the night has gotten weirder.

“Is that some kind of homemade pie?” Louis asks, ripping away some of the cling film. He dips one finger into the chocolate custard, licks his finger. Harry keeps his eyes on him the entire time. Louis fumbles, isn’t sure what he’s intended with this move here. It’s 3 in the morning and he is not supposed to be setting about seducing the curly one.

“I made it earlier. Before I met you… before… you know, when the thing happened,” Harry mumbles. Harry goes paler than before, standing in the middle of Louis’ room stock-still.

“You can have a seat, mate. Bed’s comfy, I’d know,” Louis says with a wink. Jesus, what is wrong with him? He’s turning camp and needs to reign it in. He also needs to keep Harry at ease here. Clearly he’s upset. Clearly he’s here for a reason. Harry hovers and then takes a seat at the very edge of Louis’ bed. If he scooted one inch further, he’d fall right off. Louis rummages in his cupboard for a shirt and pulls it on. He takes a seat next to Harry on the bed, plucking a fork out of one of Harry’s pockets.

“Truly didn’t expect to see you here. Give me the pie, it looks amazing,” Louis says, making grab hands at the pan. Harry passes the pan to him, stifling a yawn. Louis digs in, a tiny moan escaping his lips as he takes a bite.

“You like it then?” Harry asks, a bit of amusement dancing in his green eyes. Louis keeps eating, only stopping to nod.

“My god, this is good. What are you, some kind of secret food genius?” he mutters, taking another bite. Harry pulls his own fork out of his dressing gown, begins eating tiny bites from the other side. Louis finds this extremely… arousing. He has no idea why. The late hour is messing with his head, but he and Harry are just sitting here sharing some dessert. It feels sexy, it feels like maybe he’d like to drizzle some of this chocolate on Harry’s fit little body and then—

“I brought something else too,” Harry says, distracting Louis from his thoughts. Which is probably for the best. Louis shifts uncomfortably on the bed and just stares at Harry, a little dumbfounded. “I mean, with me. I just didn’t know what to do, who to talk to. I can’t talk to Niall because he’d just get hyper-concerned. I can’t talk to my sister, or my mum. You’re the only one who understands and if you want me to go, I’ll go. I just didn’t know how to handle the situation. I’m sure you want to just forget it,” Harry says quietly, ducking his head.

“Lad, you’re not going anywhere until this pie is finished. What’s on your mind, Curly? Still spooked over the murder? Let me tell you, those cops don’t know how to do their fucking jobs. Not one of them believed a word I told them. Suicide, my arse,” Louis says, stabbing the air with his fork.

“Exactly,” Harry says, exhaling a deep breath. He sets his fork down and wipes at some stray bits of chocolate on his lips with the back of his hand. Louis wants to lick the chocolate off of him. Doing so would be wrong though, so very wrong. This is not the time or the place because Harry looks to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Again. This is becoming a pattern.

“Alright, out with it. What else did you bring me? It’s the middle of the night, so I’m hoping you brought tea in those pockets of yours,” Louis quips. Harry digs into his pocket again, his hands showing a hint of tremble. He shoves a piece of paper, folded, into Louis’ palm. Louis looks down, frowns.

“This is not tea. You promised tea,” he says lightly, unfolding the slip. Then he shuts up for good as he reads the words. Just three sentences, that’s all. But they’re enough to shake him to the core. He reads them a few times just to be sure of what he’s seeing. Harry stiffens next to him. Louis can practically smell the anxiety rolling off him.

 

**I know what you saw. Consider yourself next. Don’t try to hide because I’ll always find you.**

 

“When...when did you get this?” Louis asks in the most level voice he can muster. The paper is expensive, he can tell. He’s been around posh people all his life, knows good paper when he feels it. It’s weighted in his hand, creamy and smooth. It’s no ransom note, no slap-dash cutouts of magazine letters pasted in. The words are written in an elegant script. Calligraphy. Louis has a sudden burst of homesickness and yearning for his sister Fizzy at home in Donny, taking calligraphy lessons when she was younger. The looping of the letters, the careful scratches of pen to paper. Whoever wrote this learned from the best.

“Found it in my door today after class. You didn’t get one?” Harry asks. He is twisting his hands together, his long fingers kneading the skin. Over and over. Louis drops the note for a minute and moves the pie back to his desk, reaching over Harry. Getting close to him, too close. Louis holds his breath. It’s quiet enough to hear Harry’s heartbeat, his own too. They both race a little too fast.

“No, haven’t seen one. I have to wonder who wrote it,” Louis says, breaking the tension and moving back away from Harry.

“Isn’t it obvious? We were seen, Louis. Or at least, I was. It has to be the murderer, he’s still out there. He’s probably skulking around campus, lying in wait until he can get me alone and then BAM,” Harry says, his voice raising. Louis startles and jumps back against his pillows.

“It’ll be off another building, for me. Probably the dining hall. Would be fitting,” Harry continues glumly.

“Well, if he saw you, he’d have to have seen me too. I mean, we were both there, waiting around for the ambulance,” Louis says, easing back against his pillow. “Who writes like this? It’s like Victorian age shit, the calligraphy.” He holds back a yawn, noting the time. It’s late. Or early. Whatever way you look at it, him and Harry are both probably fucked. Harry picks up the note again, turning it over in his hands. His fingers trace over the letters.

“Do we bring the note back to the police?” Harry asks. Louis watches him from heavier lids than he had just a moment ago. Harry’s hair is as wild as ever, the moonlight hitting his profile just so from outside his bedroom window. Louis sprawls out a little more, his foot resting just against Harry’s lower back.

“I have a question,” Louis says. Harry looks perplexed.

“You never answered mine, though,” Harry says. His forehead wrinkles. Louis thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Forget the police for a moment, forget all of this. How in the hell did you know where I live?” Louis asks. He props himself on one arm, staring at Harry without blinking. He’d love to get to the bottom of the note, but he’d also love to bottom Harry. And doing that requires him to ask the tough questions.

“You’re changing the subject. We should focus on—” Harry says with a yawn, “—the note. Doesn’t matter how I found you. Just did.” Even in the dim light of his desk lamp, Louis can see that lovely blush forming on Harry’s cheeks. He has tells. He definitely has tells.

“Curly, just admit you’re a stalker,” Louis says easily, grinning at Harry.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’d never,” Harry says. Louis is glad to see that Harry has placed the note very carefully on the desk, next to the pie. Better out of his twisting, nervous hands. Could be evidence, eventually.

“You are. You totally are. I mean, I know I look great in a pair of pants, but, really, you didn’t have to come all this way to my dorm room to talk to me. Not like my name’s on the door or anything. So how’d you know?” Louis asks. He’s ragging on Harry now. Pushing some buttons, just to see what happens. Harry looks bashful, painfully awkward. This is the Harry that Louis recalls seeing wandering the dining hall. Too big for his frame, not yet grown into his body.

“This is the upperclassmen international floor, yeah? Knew you were friends with Liam, that resident advisor? My friend Niall had detention ‘cause of him today. Thinks he’s a bit of a dickhead, mind you. So I knew where to look. Plus your door, specifically, has a whiteboard stuck on it with tons of rude messages from half the floor. Figured this had to be you,” Harry says, slumping a little where he sits. Louis fights back a laugh. Liam, the dickhead.

“Amazing. Grade A detective work, Harold. Impressive. You must get all the girls with a mind like that,” Louis says easily, settling back down into his pillow some more. Harry is fidgeting. He is decidedly fidgeting now, mussing with his chocolate curls a bit. Scratching at the back of his neck. Louis is curious.

“Not exactly,” Harry says. Louis catches his gaze, holds steady for just a few seconds. There’s something there Harry’s not telling him, but he’s too tired to press it anymore.

“Yeah, right. Anyway listen, love, it’s bloody late and I’d really like some shut-eye,” Louis says.

“But the note. We haven’t even decided what to do with it!” Harry says, voice rising a bit to hysteric levels. Louis pops up out of bed for just a minute to switch off his desk lamp.

“Too tired, Harold. Too tired to think, too tired to do more than sleep. I need bed,” Louis says. Harry lurches to his feet, blinking tiredly a few times. Louis looks up at him. He’s so much taller than him.

“I’ll be off then. Taking the pie with me, I’m sure you’re devastated,” Harry mutters, going to grab the pan. Louis slaps his hand away.

“Not so fast, Curly. Who said I was letting you out of this room? You can’t go sneaking off into the night again and especially not with that pie. Murder man will be on you like beans on toast. You’re staying put,” Louis says, his mind made up. Harry scoffs. Louis just can’t take him seriously, _my god, look at him_. Little navy plaid pajama bottoms and his dressing gown.

“I’m not staying with you. There’s no room,” Harry says. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Relax, princess. I’ll bunk on the floor tonight, you take the bed. You can sneak to breakfast in the morning. I swear most of the dorm will be hungover anyway, no one will notice a thing,” Louis says.

“Should really go, honestly. It’s your bed,” Harry starts.

“Not another word, Curly. Now, throw me one of my extra pillows and let me get comfortable. If you so much as snore, I’ll murder you before the mystery man does,” Louis says. Harry sighs and reaches for a pillow, gingerly tossing it to Louis. Louis grabs an extra throw blanket from his cupboard and spreads it out on his floor. Harry undoes his dressing gown, hanging it neatly on the back of Louis’ desk chair. He eyes the bed.

“You’re sure? I’d be fine on the floor, really,” Harry says. Louis just gives him a thumbs-up. Louis settles down on the floor, amusedly watching Harry climb into his bed. His tall frame means his feet go right to the very edge of the mattress. The darkness around them isn’t nearly as endless as before with morning coming quick, but Louis is exhausted all the same. He closes his eyes and hears Harry murmur a goodnight before falling into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**H**

 

Harry pulls the sheets closer around him, breathing in Louis. He’s everywhere in this bed. Every inch of comforter and pillow and duvet screams his name and Harry is so comfortable, so peaceful here. The sunlight streams through the blinds of Louis’ dorm room and Harry snuggles farther down into the blankets. He can hear Louis sniffling a bit in his sleep. He doesn’t dare peer over the side of the bed just yet. Can’t imagine seeing him looking so vulnerable. Stray birds chirp from outside, the world around them waking, and Harry drifts back down into his dream. It’s a happy one. He imagines him and Louis having a different night together. One that ends with Louis in this bed with him, pressed up against him. Together in the dark, hands roaming, mouths exploring, a sheen of sweat on them both and Harry wants, he wants wants wants and —

“What the fuck,” a loud voice says. Harry jerks awake, wrenched from his dream much too soon. He squints at the doorway, eyes blurry with sleep. All the blood has rushed to his dick, he can feel himself straining against his own pajama bottoms. A petite girl is standing in the doorway, shock of blonde hair tinged with pink tips at the ends. Harry pulls the covers closer to his chest. He has no idea who she is.

“What are you doing in my brother’s bed?” the girl asks. Same accent as Louis, similar face shape. Harry blinks at her, isn’t sure what to do. He hears Louis roll over on the floor and unleash a stream of expletives under his breath. Louis’ head pops up, nearly level with Harry’s as he continues to lay on his back unable to move. He flicks his eyes over to Harry and then over to the girl.

“Lottie, christ, what time is it? Is this how you wake a man? I didn’t sign on to have you as my human alarm clock when Mum told me to keep an eye on you,” Louis drawls, a sleepy tinge to his voice. Harry can feel his entire body blush. He can’t directly look at anyone in this room right now. Maybe if he stays still, everyone will forget he’s even in here. He can sink into these sheets and disappear forever.

“This your new boyfriend, Lou? You sure move fast. Nice to meet you, I’m Lottie,” Lottie says, taking the time to examine her nails as she leans against the door. Harry’s pulse moves quicker at the word ‘boyfriend.’ He finds his voice, sits up slightly. He feels caged in, like a wild animal.

“Definitely not boyfriend, no. No, I just… I got tired… I fell asleep and like… I should go. Right? I should go,” Harry stammers out.

“Curly, relax. My dear sister _Charlotte_ here was raised in a barn, has no manners,” Louis says, looking over at Harry again. Louis’ hair is wild, sticking up every which way. His shirt must’ve come off in the middle of the night, Harry sees it discarded next to his sheet on the floor. He tries not to stare at his exposed skin.

“Got nicknames for each other too? Cute. I’ll have you know, wanker, that I had to spend all last night listening to Valentina and her minions have a horrific sob session about you. You owe me brekkie, at the very least,” Lottie says. Louis stands up, grumbles to himself as he pulls his shirt back on.

“Harold, up for breakfast?” Louis asks. Harry panics. He wants nothing more than to get a nice, leisurely breakfast with Louis but this is not that kind of relationship. That note from last night is as real as ever, they’ve only been thrown together out of pure happenstance. Louis would never want to hang out with him alone on purpose. They’re hardly even friends. So what if he woke up in his bed? It means nothing.

“I’m fine, I should go,” Harry says, trying to convince himself of it.

“Lottie, wait outside please. I’ll be dressed in a minute, Harry has to get all his stuff. Meet you out front in five?” Louis asks, arching his eyebrow at her. Lottie stares at the two of them for a minute, an expression Harry doesn’t know how to read on her face. She flicks her hair before responding.

“Fine. Nice meeting you, Harold. You’re much cuter than Valentina,” she says with a giggle before leaving the room. Harry exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“My sister,” Louis begins, wringing his hands together.

“Lovely girl,” Harry says, trying to inject some sincerity into his voice. Louis is looking at him expectantly, like he expects him to get out from under the covers. To Harry’s horror, Louis takes a seat on the bed. Harry can feel Louis’ body heat radiating through the blankets. His body is scorching, his boner as raging as ever. He gulps slowly, trying to calm down his nerves. Louis can sit wherever he wants, it’s his room after all. Harry is just a stranger bunking for the night.

“I am sorry about that. She tends to barge in from time to time,” Louis says, keeping his eyes on Harry’s. “And her comment about Valentina...”

“You don’t have to explain. I know she was joking about me being your boyfriend,” Harry says, cutting him off. Harry likes the sound of that all the same though. Louis’ boyfriend. His. Which is crazy, because they’ve only just met. They hardly know each other. But doesn’t experiencing some wild tragedy together just break all the laws of what you _should_ do? Or it is all the cheesy, romantic movies Harry’s watched just getting into his head? Having a meet-cute at a murder scene doesn't really set them up for success in the future.

Louis’ lips turn up into a tiny smile. He studies Harry for a few seconds that feel like hours. Harry isn’t sure why he’s bringing up the boyfriend thing. It’s too early for this muddied conversation. He grips the duvet, is still snug in Louis’ bed. There’s a slight tent in the sheets and he squirms awkwardly, desperate to relieve the pressure. Desperate to flee. Desperate to stay. Louis inches his hand slowly towards one of Harry’s, hovers near him for a second but never touches.

“She wasn’t joking about Valentina. We’re over. Broke up with her yesterday,” Louis says quickly. Harry sits up at that, shoves a hand through his hair.

“Sorry to hear that,” he says. He doesn’t mean a word of it. He searches Louis’ eyes for something more he’s not saying. It’s quiet between them. Harry’s heartbeat crashes in his chest. Louis stands suddenly, starts going to his cupboard to pull on real clothing. Harry takes that as his cue to also stand and gather his things. He isn’t sure how to get out of bed without revealing his obvious arousal.

He slips out from the sheets quickly and tries to grab something, anything, to cover himself besides his hands. He’s nearly got his dressing gown bunched in front of him when Louis whirls around, fully dressed in a pair of bright chinos and a white shirt. Louis’ eyes drop exactly where he doesn’t want them to. He inhales sharply. Harry is frozen, hard and has no idea what to do. His eyes skitter away from Louis, hunting for his pie pan so he can get out of this room.

“Harry, I—” Louis begins with a crack in his voice. Harry closes his eyes, wants to die.

“Please, I’m sorry, I really need to just get out and—” Harry says in protest. He flutters his eyes open and is surprised to see Louis standing much closer to him. Too close. He can count the small smattering of freckles around his nose, can smell a whiff of chocolate on his breath from the night before. Louis stands before him, no longer looking at his crotch but instead gazing a bit into his eyes. Harry can’t get over how blue they are.

“Are you embarrassed?” Louis asks.

“Of what?” Harry responds, his heartbeat beginning to slow a tiny bit. The note is still on the desk, the pie pan is his for the taking. All he needs to do is grab those things and bolt. But he’s rooted to the spot.

“I’d ask if that’s your mobile phone or if you’re just happy to see me, but that would be rude wouldn’t it?” Louis says with a cheeky grin.

“Very,” Harry says, his voice low.

“So what was it then? Good dream? Imagining some yammering freshman girl and yourself out on a rowboat on Laurel Lake or summat?” Louis says.

“Hardly...” Harry says, feels himself finally going soft. He swipes up the note, ties his dressing gown around himself, can feel himself growing more confident knowing he has a way out.

“Or perhaps it’s something else entirely,” Louis says, mischief dancing in his eyes. Harry whips the dorm door open, pie in one hand, note stuffed deep in his pocket. He turns back and sends a small smile to Louis.

“Very perhaps,” is all he says before shutting the door on Louis’ gaping face. Harry feels proud of himself, for the first time in a while, as he shuffles out of the international dorm. He passes Liam in the hallway, who gives him a very strange look indeed. As he heads down the stairs, he can hear Liam calling to Louis.

“Oi, Louis, have you seen a curly-headed kid about yay-tall wandering around? Looked like a lost giraffe,” Liam says. Harry just laughs to himself. His good feeling lasts about as long as it takes for him to get outside into the bright fall morning because there stands Lottie. She’s leaned up against the wall of the dorm, blowing a gum bubble. She looks Harry up and down like he’s a piece of meat.

“Can I help you?” he asks, because of course he could just ignore her and move along but where’s the fun in that?

“So you spent the night with my illustrious brother,” she begins. Harry glances at the dorm door, prays Louis isn’t about to step outside.

“It’s not what you’re thinking. He has, well, had a girlfriend. It was just sleeping,” Harry responds.

“Never seen you hang around him before. Didn’t know you lads were friends,” Lottie says.

“We’re not, exactly. Well, we sort of are. We’re only getting to know each other now, is all,” he says with a stammer. He’s over-explaining now.

“Right, right. So he told you all about Valentina then? The terms?” Lottie asks, cocking her hip. Harry almost laughs at the way her body moves, knows he’s seen Louis do it at least once so far. Must run in the family.

“Terms? I mean I know he had a girlfriend and now he doesn’t. What’s there to get? Beyond that?” he asks. Harry has no idea what she’s getting at. Lottie rolls her eyes, clearly delighted that Harry is as confused as he could ever be.

“My brother is a complicated individual. And you know what, you’re really adorable. I’ve only known you for about 18 seconds but I see the way he looked at you. Maybe just don’t fuck it up,” Lottie says, blowing another bubble and letting it pop. Just like that, Harry has a revelation. The tiniest inkling that maybe, just maybe, Louis could be interested in him. _In that way_. The dorm door slams open and Louis bursts free like a bat out of hell.

“Curly, my god, you’re still here. If you wanted to come to breakfast you could’ve just said so,” Louis exclaims. He pops his hip and stares at Harry, shakes his fringe out of his eyes. Harry sees it all now in the light of day. Lottie is looking between the two of them like a fire’s about to ignite.

“No breakfast for me. Lottie, it was… _enlightening…_ meeting you. What’s your breakfast meat of choice, Lou? Bet it’s sausages,” Harry says, backing away and waving before anyone has a chance to stop him. He can’t stop grinning. He wants to take off running, feels so hyped on adrenaline and flat-out knowing in his bones, but he just walks a normal pace. Heading back to his dorm, where Niall will be waiting to regale him about his detention with Liam and where he’s still a semi-closeted gay guy. Everything normal. No murder, no new potential romance. His phone sits in his dressing gown pocket and he digs it out, decides to call his mum to finally get her off his back a little.

“Mum, it’s Harry!” he says as he lets himself into his dormitory. Everything in front of him looks as it should, his mum’s voice on the other line a comforting piece of home. It’s all good.

 

**L**

 

“You’re doing it again,” Lottie says. She’s seated across from Louis at their go-to breakfast spot off-campus, The Buttered Biscuit. Louis has a car, thanks to his mum understanding that maybe he’d need to get away from the stifling campus of Wellington from time to time. To go explore the world outside the ivy walls.

“Am not,” Louis murmurs as he stacks and unstacks a pack of rainbow-colored sugar packets. First the yellows, then the blues, then the pinks. A tower that sways until it falls; then back up they go. His coffee sits in front of him, untouched. He can’t stop thinking about Harry, thinking about the note, thinking about what could’ve happened with Harry in his room if he’d let it. If he was braver. Less talk, more action.

“Are too. The stacking. You only do that when you’re nervous, so stop. What’s got you all weird today? Is it the Harry thing?” Lottie asks. She’s got a cuppa in front of her, and a few crumbs left over from her banana muffin. Louis has no idea how she can stand to drink American tea. It tastes nothing like home.

“Harry, as a concept, is the least of my worries,” Louis says darkly. He glances up at Lottie, her eyes so open and honest. No one knows them at this hole-in-the-wall diner. None of the other students would be caught dead here. Not luxurious enough for them. They found it once on a whim, nestled deep into the forest past the city limits of Wellington. It’s a greasy spoon type of place. Lots of people just passing through on their way to more exciting places. Louis finds comfort in the chipped tables, the faint stink of cigarette smoke that lingers in the air.

“I know I shouldn’t have just barged in this morning. Sorry,” Lottie says quietly, a few wrinkled lines framing her forehead. She stares at Louis like she’s looking into his soul.

“It’s fine,” Louis says in a clipped tone. He has no idea why he’s suddenly so bothered by things. It was easy, being breezy and loose around Harry about the murder. There’s a note, okay. So someone knows Harry witnessed something, alright. It’s not like anyone’s come after him.

“You like him,” Lottie says, kicking his foot under the table. Louis smiles and takes a sip of his coffee. It’s a small gesture they used to do as kids. As the two oldest children of the family, they found ways to have secret communication. If their father was laying into Louis about leaving his elbows on the dinner table when company was over, he could count on a small kick from Lottie to remind him that someone was on his side.

“I do. He’s like a baby animal, you’ve seen the curls right? S’ a pity he’s probably not into guys though. But I really can’t focus on that right now,” Louis says, finally just acquiescing to Lottie’s line of questioning. She settles back in her seat, looking pleased at his admission.

“Okay, so that takes care of the Harry thing. Which, based on my small conversation with him outside your dorm - I’d say he might like you too,” she says. Louis’ heart does a little twirl in his chest. “So what else could possibly be getting you down? Not enough footie matches on the telly to entertain yourself for the weekend?” Lottie asks. The door to the diner tinkles as a new customer enters. Louis glances over and then brings his gaze back to Lottie. He grips his mug tightly, tries to muster the confidence. What would be the harm in telling her? She’s family.

“So Lotts, I assume you heard about the uh… you know, the girl Mariah,” Louis begins. This is going to be painful.

“The suicide. Duh, everyone heard. It’s so sad,” Lottie says. Louis traces the rim of his coffee cup with one finger.

“Right, sad. But you know, what would you say if I told you it wasn’t a suicide?” he asks, keeping his voice low. Lottie perks up in her seat, narrows her eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course it was,” she says.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Someone pushed that girl,” he says with a grimace. He holds his breath while he waits for Lottie to react to this news. Is she going to think he’s insane and just keep on believing the story being fed to her by the school and the police?

“How exactly would you know that, brother?” she asks.

“I was there,” he says. Blunt, factual. Lottie picks her teacup up, hands a little shaky. She hesitates before drinking, like she’s mulling things over.

“What do you mean you were there? Are you trying to tell me… are you trying to admit that you —” she hisses. Louis takes another short sip of his coffee and sputters as he answers.

“No, no GOD no I didn’t do it. What kind of person do you think I am?” he says.

“Dunno, Louis. You had a boy in your bed this morning, now you’re talking about potential murder and you’re drinking coffee. I know nothing,” Lottie says, finally setting her teacup down.

“I witnessed it. Harry and me. I was out with V, he was out… well, he was out baking a bloody pie. Somehow we both saw someone push the girl. Had to call the ambulance,” Louis says, his voice trailing off. He can feel a few tears welling up. He hasn’t even let himself be sad about this yet. It was so shocking, like being in a dream. Lottie places a hand on his. He gives her a squeeze.

“Babe, did you tell the police then?” Lottie asks.

“Yeah, I did. We both did. No one believed us. There was a note left behind by the girl so, cut and dry,” he says weakly. Lottie tuts under her breath, like their mum does when she’s upset.

“So that’s it then? They wrapped up the case and that was it? Does mum know?” she asks. Louis shrugs.

“Mum called me once but it went to voicemail. I assume the headmaster called. Thought I’d be off the footie team for being out after hours. But Lottie, it’s like everyone just wants to forget. There’s some shady guy on campus, a _murderer_ for fuck’s sake, but no one even cares,” he says, cracking his knuckles.

“Have you seen the guy at all? Like, would you be able to pick him out in a lineup or something?” she asks him.

“No. Between me and Harry, all we knew collectively was that he had spiked hair and was kind of tall. That was it. Oh, and Harry got a threatening note,” he says, adding the last bit in with a bit of nonchalance. Lottie nearly loses her mind, banging her fist down on the table. For a small girl, she’s quite strong.

“What did that note say?” she says between clenched teeth.

“Oh, the usual, Lottie. A little threat about knowing who Harry is, that he’ll be next. It was written in calligraphy, if that helps,” he says. Their waitress picks this moment to come over and has them wrap up their check. Louis pays for his sister, doting big brother that he is. He and Lottie head out to the car, her questioning him about all the details of the night of the murder while they drive back to campus. Thick trees roll past them as they make their way back. Looming, large shadows frame the road, the sun hidden behind some clouds. Looks like a day for some rain. Anyone could be hiding in those woods, Louis thinks, as they pull into the familiar gates of the academy.

He pulls around to the underclassmen girls’ dorm. Lottie looks hesitant to leave the car. Louis tugs on some of the pink tips of her hair and she swats him away.

“You gonna be okay? I feel like we should be doing something. Telling someone,” she says, hand on the passenger handle.

“I’ve told people. There’s not much to do but just hope it blows over,” Louis says. Lottie gives him a quick hug, surprising him a little. He inhales the familiar smell of her perfume mixed with the stink of the diner. It calms some of his nerves a little.

“Thanks for listening,” he whispers into her hair. She pulls away and ruffles some of his hair.

“Just doing my sisterly duties. Call me later if you want to talk, or hatch a plan, or something. I’ve just got a ton of geography homework to get through,” Lottie says before she steps out of the car. Louis gives her a little wave and sees her off, waiting for her to get safely inside. He drives slowly through campus to get to the parking area, his spot reserved thanks to daddy’s money. As he cruises, he stares at a few kids wandering campus. He eyes them up, searching for spiked hair. Someone tall, thin. No one fits the bill though. Not exactly.

Back at the dorm, Louis is ready to crawl back in bed and take a well-deserved nap. Amazingly, no one bothers him in the hallways. He gets to his room without interruption and blissfully falls into bed, unmade and unkempt from Harry. He rolls over on his side, bringing his covers with him - thinks about Harry cocooned in the sheets, pliant and unworried in sleep. His eyes drift closed and he slips into an afternoon snooze. When Louis wakes, it’s to someone rapping on his door. Evening sun is settling down in the mountains surrounding campus. His room is lit by amber light and he yawns and stretches before getting out of bed. He throws on a pair of joggers and a Wellington shirt, suitably acceptable for company.

“Give me a bloody minute,” he yells as he walks to the door. He swings it open and is unsurprised to see Liam standing in a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt. What is surprising, though, is the look on his face. Liam usually has the facial expressions of an excited puppy, or a happy goldfish - but this is something different. He looks worried, ill at ease.

“Li, what’s wrong?” Louis asks, leaning against his doorframe. Liam points a finger to a slip of paper tacked up to his whiteboard on his door. Louis peers at it, silent. He knows exactly what it is, knows what it holds.

“I read it already,” Liam says. His eye’s gone a little twitchy.

“That’s private property,” Louis says, heartbeat pounding in his ears. He grabs the note, feels the heavy paper, knows he couldn’t stay safe for long. This was bound to happen.

“What’s it mean? You’ve got to tell me, I’m a resident advisor and I’m supposed to be keeping everyone safe,” Liam says, his face growing a little red. Louis weighs his options as he unfolds the note with a shaky hand.

 

**I could dig three graves, if I had to. One for her, one for him, and one for you.**

 

Louis bristles at the words. So he’s been found out too. He flits his eyes from one end of the hallway to the other. Liam looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.

“Did you see who left this?” he asks, stepping back into his room to pull on a hoodie and some trainers. He rummages around on his desk, finding a bag of Fritos. Liam’s secret favorite.

“No, but Louis, you need to tell me. Is someone threatening you? What’s he on about three graves?” Liam asks. Louis shoves the bag of snacks into Liam’s hand.

“Eat, you’ll feel better,” he says, snagging his keys and a box of cigarettes before turning off the light. He has to get to Harry. All he can really focus on right now is showing up with this bloody note, and figuring out what exactly they need to do now to stay alive.

“You can’t just shut me up with food!” Liam whines, ripping into the bag already before Louis has a chance to lock his door. “And where exactly are we going? You haven’t answered any of my questions.” Louis begins to beeline down the hallway and out the door of his dormitory. He’s got the note in his pocket, feels it burning away. Liam follows him at a fast pace. He walks towards the underclassmen dorms. He knows where they are, generally, but has no clue where Harry’s specific room would be.

“Liam, how many room assignments have you had to memorize since you became a resident advisor?” Louis asks, swinging a left by the science building so sharply that Liam nearly topples over into the Wellington Class of 2009 fountain. He can hear Liam choke on a Frito but he doesn’t slow his pace.

“I don’t know, nearly all of them, Louis, but I don’t know how that’s relevant. You need to tell me what —” Liam says.

“Harry Styles. I need the room for one Harry Styles, Li. If you can’t help me on this then leave now,” Louis says, feeling himself breaking into a bit of a sweat. Campus is cooling down rapidly, the lights flicking on. Growing darkness, too many places for someone to lurk on this campus. Every shadow spooks him, every sudden movement makes him edgy.

“Harry, Harry, he’s the scholarship student,” Liam begins. Louis is surprised to hear this detail. A scholarship student. No wonder Harry was so defensive when Louis wanted to bolt from the cops. Louis digs around in his pocket for his cigarettes, lights one up as the underclassmen boys’ dorm comes into view.

“No smoking on campus, Louis,” Liam yells as he tries to keep up with him. Louis flicks him off and continues moving.

“Keep thinking, Liam,” Louis murmurs as he exhales a puff of smoke. The nicotine burns in his lungs, but it feels good. Makes him feel alive. They approach the dorm, lit up all cheerful from the inside.

“Think he’s room 246. Single room, yes. 246. Louis, I told you what you wanted, so tell me what’s happening,” Liam says. Louis breaks into a run. He takes a few last puffs on his cigarette, clamoring into the dorm and taking the steps two at a time. He remembers the underclassmen dorms well. He reaches the first floor, passes the framed photo of Cadley Wellington. It looks better than when he last saw it - when he defaced it on a dare. The mustache and devil horns appear to be gone now. The cleaners must’ve done a good job getting rid of his handiwork.

He spots Harry’s room, can hear the strum of a guitar from behind the door. He knocks once, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Harry opens it, giving Louis a slow once-over. Louis forgets, just for a second, why he came here. Harry’s dressed in dark jeans and a cozy maroon jumper. Louis wants him, he wants him right now. Liam huffs as he runs down the hallway, stopping to wheeze in front of Harry’s door. Harry arches an eyebrow at Liam.

“Tomlinson, didn’t expect you,” Harry says, a tiny bit of pink making itself known on his cheeks. The guitar strumming stops behind him and a blonde kid appears.

“Oi, what’s Payne doing here Harry? Here to bloody write me up again? I checked the Wellington rule book, you can’t bust anyone outside your own dorm,” the blonde says in an angry voice.

“Niall Horan? I can write up anyone, anytime. Boys, I have to say, playing music too loud after hours is actually an infraction and —” Liam says.

“Oh, fuck off Payno,” Niall shoots back.  Louis rolls his eyes and shoves his way into Harry’s room, slaps the note down on Harry’s desk.

“He found me, too,” Louis says, his voice coming out in a hiss. Harry rushes to him, reads the note.

“Shit, shit this is bad. This is really, really fucking bad,” Harry murmurs. Louis grips the note, reading it over and over. Harry lays a soft hand on top of his. They make eye contact and Louis feels like he can breathe a little now. From behind the two of them, he hears both Niall and Liam clear their voices. Niall shuts the door and Liam crosses his arms.

“The pair of you should probably get to filling us in now,” Niall says, frowning. Harry gulps audibly and lets go of Louis’ hand. Louis misses his touch already.

“Don’t need to get you involved, really. We’re handling it, it’s all fine,” Harry babbles.

“He’s right, there was just a bit of a misunderstanding so if you gents would let me talk to Harry alone, that’d be—” Louis says.

“Not a chance, Tomlinson. When someone’s sending death threats to my mate, I deserve to know why,” Liam says.

“Death threats? Fuck. You too, Horatio?” Niall asks. Louis does a double-take at the name Horatio. No idea what he’s on about.

“Er, yeah. Got a note too. Different than his, but. Similar,” Harry says. They all stand there in silence for a few seconds. Louis already risked telling Lottie today. Growing the circle of people who know the truth could be dangerous. He has no idea what the right answer is here. Harry glances at him and nods his head. Louis looks back at Liam and Niall, lets out a breath.

“It’s a bit of a long tale,” he says.

“We’ve got time,” Niall responds, swiping Liam’s bag of Fritos.


	5. Chapter 5

**H**

 

“Who do we know with spiked hair? I mean, beyond the obvious,” Harry muses, letting the football pass him for the fifth time this evening. Louis bounds after it. He’s lovely. He moves with so much elegance, like his body knows exactly where the ball’s going before the ball does. Niall’s panting with his hands on his hips, staring up at the night sky. It’s littered with stars, the moon sunken behind a few clouds.

“My roommate’s got spiked hair. Assuming that’s the obvious choice, yeah?” Niall says between deep breaths.

“Who’s the roommate?” Liam asks as he races by in a blur, battling Louis towards the goal. Harry sits in the grass, has no real interest in playing footie anymore. His jeans don’t stretch enough.

“Zayn Malik. The disappearing act,” he shouts into the night. Liam shushes him, says they’re all risking his neck being out here tonight. They descended onto the footie pitch after he and Louis tried to tell their story. When they finished, Niall and Liam looked like they’d been punched.

“We need to blow off some steam, lads. Up for it?” Niall had asked, grabbing a ball from his room. They left almost nothing out of their full explanation. Well, Harry omitted seeing Louis nearly get a blowjob from Valentina. And he decided not to mention waking up in Louis’ bed just this morning. But the rest they came clean on. Louis runs by, dribbling the ball and shooting a grin Harry’s way.

“Who’s this Zayn?” Louis asks, doing a tricky spin move to keep the ball away from Liam as they race across the field. Niall’s grown bored of football, too, has opted to kick into handstands instead. He balances on his hands for a few seconds before tumbling down in a heap.

“An acquaintance of mine, at best. He’s harmless. Thinks he’s cool, always sneaking off to meet girls. But the night Mariah was pushed, he was actually in the room. That’s a first this semester, I swear,” Niall says. Harry picks through his brain, tries to put some names to faces he’s seen around campus. He can’t think of anyone that even knew Mariah. His social life has left a bit to be desired.

“Malik sounds like he’s trying too hard,” Liam says, sinking to his knees as Louis scores another goal. “You dick, Louis, you cheated. Did you see him? He cheated!” Louis does a victory dance, complete with a bad attempt at the worm. Harry smiles. It feels good to be having some fun. Everything’s been so serious. Life and death, really. Louis jogs over to where Harry’s sitting and joins him, bumping his shoulder as he sits. A hint of nervousness creeps into his body. They haven’t been alone together since this morning.

“Nice seeing you in clothes that aren’t pajamas, Curly,” Louis quips.

“I do have real clothes. Shocking, I know,” Harry says back. There’s a teasing glint in Louis’ eyes. He stretches his legs out in front of him, kicks his shoes and socks off.

“Always feel better with my bare feet in the grass. Feels good,” Louis says, wiggling his toes.

“I’m going to keep my shoes on, I think. If we have to make a run for it because the mystery writer has come for us, I want to run fast,” Harry says. He’s only half-joking. Even with Niall and Liam’s laughter echoing around the empty pitch, Harry still feels just a touch uneasy. Harry leans back on his arms, kicks his legs out in front of him like Louis, and stares up at the sky. Billions of constellations, they can see the stars for miles out here. Nothing like Cheshire, nothing like London with all the light pollution. Could never see much there. He can feel Louis’ eyes on him, watching him watch the sky.

“What do you have going on in that curly head of yours?” Louis asks softly, like he’s trying to not break a spell. Harry glances at him in his periphery.

“Just thinking about home. Never could see this many stars. Could you?” he asks.

“Where I’m from, we were surrounded by lots of empty space. My parents’ house was on a huge plot of land - so yeah, could see a few,” Louis says. Harry can feel his face tugging into a frown. He forgets the differences between them. Harry comes from modest means and Louis comes from money, probably a lot of it. Louis eases closer to him, just a bit.

“View’s better here, though,” he whispers. Harry grins at that, feels like maybe his insides are melting slowly. Liam and Niall stumble over. They both look worn out and they plunk down in front of Harry and Louis. Moment ruiners. Liam pulls at some weeds next to his feet, staring at Harry.

“So whoever did this, do you think they’ll do it again? I mean, not to you guys. But to some other… victim?” he asks. Louis whistles lowly.

“Beats me, Li. I mean, if he’s capable of doing it once, he’s capable of doing it twice,” Louis says. Harry eyes Niall, his hair practically glowing in the moonlight.

“What would you do, Nialler? Like, say it was you and Liam who witnessed this. You go to the police, they do nothing. What next?” Harry asks. Niall pauses and exchanges a wary look with Liam.

“Well, if Payno here wasn’t always putting me in detention, I probably could’ve been the one out in the middle of the night witnessing a murder,” Niall starts.

“You can’t just be late for class all the time, Niall. It’s not just you. Goes for everyone,” Liam says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Focus, boys,” Louis says, clapping his hands. Niall punches Louis in the arm. Harry’s not sure how this is going to go, but Louis takes it in stride.

“Wanker,” Niall mutters. Louis just laughs. “But really, dunno. Do you take it to the FBI? Do you take it to the bloody headmaster?” Niall continues. “I mean lads, it’s not like we’re the Scooby Doo Mystery Machine gang here…”

“Scooby had good snacks though, I could roll with that,” Liam says, launching into the theme song.

“I almost feel like… no, that would be insane,” Harry says. He has an idea in his head. One that could be very dangerous or very brave. He isn’t sure which.

“Spill, Curly,” Louis says, wiggling his toes in the grass again. Harry sits up, thinks through how he’s going to frame this. Everyone looks at him expectantly.

“Well, we’re never going to just guess who the murderer is on our own, are we?” he asks. Louis, Niall and Liam stare with blank faces back at him.

“Go on,” Louis says, poking his side. He yelps for a second, his one ticklish spot worse than he remembered.

“I just think maybe we need… bait. Someone to reel him in. Catch him in the act before he has the chance to finish someone off,” Harry says. This is a huge gamble. He has no idea what else to do though. They aren’t going to find this needle in a haystack. Police aren’t even looking for anyone, they’re going off some fake note. No suspects, no nothing.

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous that is, Harry?” Liam asks, rising to his feet. “There’s no way we’re doing that. I won’t allow it, as a responsible resident advisor on this campus. We’ll just go to the police again, it’s settled.” Niall rises and Louis and Harry scramble to their feet too.

“I think Harry’s got a point though. Could be the only way to control this on our terms, here. I’ll volunteer,” Niall says with a shrug. Harry whacks him aside the head.

“No way, Niall. You aren’t doing this for us. I’ll do it,” Harry says. He tries to sound brave, like he means it. In his head, he has no idea how he’d even lure the murderer to him. Would he just stand on top of a building and wait? Write a note and leave it on his door for the guy to find telling him where and when?

“Fuck off, all of you. If anyone’s sacrificing themselves for the cause, it’s going to be me,” Louis says. No, not Louis either. Not this gorgeous boy who’s suddenly, maybe taken some interest in him. He can’t die on him now. Before Harry has a chance to protest, Liam yawns and stretches his giant arms up towards the sky.

“I can’t stand around tonight, on this empty footie pitch, debating which of us is going to bait out a sadistic freak. I think what we all need, for right now, is sleep. The more we talk about this, the more nonsensical it gets,” Liam says as he cracks his neck. Niall shudders at the sound.

“How can we sleep when the guy knows where we live?” Louis asks pointedly.

“That’s what me and young Niall are for. To keep an eye out. Keep you safe at least until classes start again on Monday and all that,” Liam says with a laugh.

“So we only have to protect them on Sunday then, not bad. Think we can handle it. I’ll just study in Harry’s room and watch him while he stress bakes, and you can trail Louis. Don’t you two have footie practice anyway? I always see the team out here on Sundays,” Niall says. They’re both speaking like it’s a done deal. End of discussions, end of privacy. Harry feels Louis’ fingertips flutter over his wrist. He barely can keep his feet on the ground, could easily float away right this instant, as long as Louis keeps finding excuses to touch him.

“Fine. If that’s the case, we can all turn in tonight. But can’t _we_ , as two normal lads, have another hour of non-constant surveillance before we head to bed?” Louis asks. Liam looks confused. Harry’s confused, too. He stares at Louis, trying to peek into his mind.

“You want us to just leave you lot alone out here, in the middle of the night? You’ve got some nerve, mate,” Liam says with a huff. Harry wants nothing more than to just be out with Louis tonight, just a bit of time to stop thinking about what scary things are potentially ahead of them. He drills his eyes into Niall’s, wills him to understand the implication. Just one night of freedom.

“Please,” Harry mouths to Niall. He sees Niall’s reserve begin to crumble. Niall slaps Liam on the back and slings an arm around him.

“You get half an hour. We’re going to head back to the dorms, I expect to see you both wandering back in 30 minutes tops. If anyone comes after you, run like hell,” Niall says, tugging Liam away before he gets a chance to argue. Their retreating figures eventually fade into black. It’s a pleasant night but Harry shivers. He’s not cold though. Just, nervous. He turns to Louis, standing there in front of him. Waiting.

“You’re smooth, I’ll give you that,” Harry says, tries to find a way to make it less quiet around them.

“Couldn’t have my possible last free night on Earth be ruined by Liam and Niall, could I? Would rather spend it with you,” Louis says. Harry isn’t certain, but Louis looks a little nervous too. Like he’s unsure of what to say. Louis is fidgeting with his fringe, tucking it one way and then the other. Harry wishes he hadn’t worn this jumper, feels like he’s burning up.

“So it’s you and I, and our crack team now, against the world, huh?” Harry asks. Louis smiles.

“And my sister. Told her this morning at breakfast,” he responds.

“Really? Was that all you talked about? Was she still weird about me… being in your dorm this morning?” Harry asks. He remembers his sausage comment now and can feel the shame rising in him.

“Oh we did discuss you, Harold. A bit,” Louis says, drawing closer to Harry. If Harry wanted to, he could reach for his sweatshirt strings and tug him towards his body right now. But he doesn’t. He has no idea how, has no idea what he’s even doing out here with this boy in the middle of the night. He’s never been with a boy, only entertained the idea.

“Only good things, right?” he asks, a little breathless.

“She thinks you fancy me,” Louis says, voice strong. Harry bites at his lip.

“Is that so? That’s funny,” Harry says. He’s so lame. He digs his foot into the grass, can’t meet Louis’ eyes.

“Hilarious, Harry. So… do you?” Louis asks, stepping an inch closer to Harry. A breeze ruffles his hair, sets Louis’ sweatshirt strings flying.

“Even if I was to say I did, wouldn’t matter would it? Doesn’t mean you’re… that you also like…” Harry stutters. He’s never had to come out to anyone but Niall and his family. The words are caught in his throat. Louis slowly brushes his palm across Harry’s cheek, dragging his thumb softly down Harry’s jawline. The world around them is hushed. If Niall and Liam were shouting for them right now, Harry would never hear them. Not in a million years.

“Harry, do you know what’s scarier than the murderer creeping around out there?” Louis asks. Harry looks up at that, wasn’t expecting this question. Him and Louis, they’re so close. He can count each one of his eyelashes. Beautiful lashes, long and fanning out across his face, casting his cheeks in tiny shadows.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispers. He shuffles just a moment closer to Louis, can’t stop himself.

“I fancy you _and_ your curly hair. I just am dying to kiss you right now, even though my heart is fit to ricochet out of my chest. Can you feel it?” Louis asks, moving to grab Harry’s hand. He places Harry’s hand over his heart and Harry can feel the beating. Can feel Louis alive, alive, alive. Harry’s tired of waiting, he’s tired of denying and over thinking and wondering. He wants to feel alive, alive, alive too. When Louis’ lips meet his, it’s the answer to the question he’s been asking himself for so long now. Their 30 minutes are nearly up, time ticking down, their safe haven running out. But here in this tentative, gentle kiss, Harry’s never felt so at home.

 

**L**

 

Louis can’t stop smiling. When Liam guides him to bed and snuggles in next to him, his grin won’t quit. Liam’s a cover hog usually but tonight Louis doesn’t even mind. He’ll shiver without blankets because the memory of the kiss is more than enough to keep him warm.

“You bastards look a little too happy for being the next victims of a murder attempt,” Niall chirped when he and Harry had reached their meeting spot. It’s not like he was holding Harry’s hand or anything. They just walked next to each other, closer than usual, happiness dancing through Louis’ veins the entire time.

“Fuck off, Niall,” Harry murmured. Liam stared at them both with his eyebrow arched. Louis gulped then, wasn’t quite sure how to break the awkward moment.

“Guess we need to be off to bed then, right Curly?” Louis asked, staring at Harry’s stupid, gorgeous face.

“Sure, right. Bed’s a grand idea. Niall, protect me, my liege” Harry said, a tiny smile forming. Niall shoved Harry in the direction of the underclassmen dorms. Louis could only stand and wonder, watching them leave.

“Well that was fucking weird,” Liam said. Louis just waved him off as they trudged back to the international dorm. How had his lips been on Harry’s only a few moments ago? When they broke apart it was like part of Louis’ world had shifted exactly into place. Amazing, what one kiss with the right person could do. Harry had blushed, nearly glowing in the dark, and he couldn’t meet Louis’ eyes.

“Alright, love?” Louis had whispered to Harry. His lips tingled from the touch, he wanted to do it again and again until he stole all the breath from Harry’s lungs. Harry kept his eyes on the ground when he answered. His voice was low, crept into Louis and settled in his bones. He’d never tire of hearing him talk.

“I’ve never kissed… I mean you’re the first. The first guy? Like I know that you wouldn’t even speak to me if it hadn’t been for the murder,” Harry began.

“Bollocks. As if I haven’t been watching you from afar for the last year,” Louis murmured under his breath.

“This is just… it’s a lot all at once,” Harry said. Louis noticed he stuttered when he’s nervous. He cupped Harry’s chin gently, pulled him up so they were finally eye to eye again.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you trying to tell me this was your first kiss, Harold?” Louis had asked with a wry smile. He could sense the clock running out. In another minute, they’d have to bolt back to the dorms if they wanted to stay within Niall and Liam’s timeline.

“Not first kiss ever. Just, the first one with a guy, maybe the first one that’s ever really mattered. The only ones who know I’m gay are Niall and my family,” Harry said. Louis had felt his heart swell at that.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Louis had asked, feeling brave. Harry nodded. He pulled on Harry’s jumper sleeve, leading him across the football pitch. They walked closely, hand in hand. Not a soul out on campus at this hour.

“That was my first one too. With a guy. Really liked it,” Louis whispered into his ear, his lips almost brushing against Harry’s soft curls. They walked in silence then, Louis biting back a smile once they reached Niall and Liam. Their hands dropped before Niall or Liam spotted them, and that was that. And now in bed, cozy and officially safe from murderers, Louis has never felt so good. So free. Louis stretches like a cat, knocks into Liam’s side. Liam rolls over to stare at him, ever-present worried look on his face.

“So what was that about earlier? You’re too smiley,” Liam says into the pillow he’s stolen. Louis sighs happily, knowing Liam will probably take anything he says in stride and then forget it by morning.

“Just happy to be alive, Li,” he whispers, grabbing for one of the blankets Liam hasn’t cocooned himself into yet. Liam grabs it back, pulling it off Louis in one quick move. Louis shrieks, wrestles to get it back.

“No, Louis. I know this look on you, it’s the look you get when something has gone perfectly to plan. Like when you convinced our entire English class to pretend to come down with whooping cough at the same time to get out of exams,” Liam says.

“That was child’s play, Liam. This happy is not part of some bullshit prank,” Louis says, swiping the blanket once and for all and settling down again. Liam rolls onto his back. They both stare up at the ceiling.

“Is it Harry?” Liam asks with a small voice. Louis tenses, keeps his gaze glued to the ceiling and only the ceiling. Liam has only known Louis as straight Louis. Nothing else. Louis blows out a puff of breath, tries to sink himself down into the mattress more than he already is. The dark around them gives him some more confidence. Butterflies are wild in his stomach but he pushes them down, squashes each one. Liam’s trustworthy and very much not a dickhead like some other people think.

“Yeah, Li. It is,” he whispers with only a moment’s hesitation. The seconds pass like hours and Louis isn’t sure he should’ve just done it—just come out with it like that. From the corner of his eye, he can see Liam’s crinkle-eyed smile forming. Relief floods him.

“That’s lovely, Lou. Just… it’s great. I support it. It’s not weird that I’m sleeping here, right?” Liam sputters. Louis looks over at Liam and waggles his eyebrows.

“You’re too much of a rule-follower for me, Li. I can guarantee I’ll never want to hit on you. So sorry,” he whispers with a grin.

“So Valentina then, she was…” Liam starts.

“Just a beard,” Louis says. Liam giggles, pats him on the head before rolling opposite of Louis. Louis closes his eyes and sleeps, only happy dreams. The weekend rolls on with Liam trailing Louis at every single moment. He follows him into the shower (“Liam, just because you know I’m a gay man doesn't mean you get to see my naked arse anytime you want. Piss off”), follows him to the dining hall, hounds him at footie practice and everywhere in between until classes Monday.

They don’t once run into Niall or Harry, much to Louis’ immense disappointment. Louis is unlacing his trainers in the team locker room, intensely focused on his next goal for the day, which is talking to Harry. Or kissing Harry. Whichever, really. He’s had a full day of class work plus practice thrown at him and needs a distraction. Liam hovers, always near, fixing his quiff in the mirror. A tall kid ambles in and gives them both the once-over before picking a locker.

“You two are on the soccer team, right?” the guy asks. Louis studies him from where he sits. Tall, thin, spiked hair. He tries to picture him in the dark, creeping around. Faint alarm bells go off in his head.

“Football to us, but you’re from the States so guess it’s fine. We are. What’s it to you?” Liam says, crossing his arms and moving in front of Louis to shield him from view.

“Trying out for winter league. Thought I’d take my chances, see how it goes,” the guy responds. Louis pops his head out from behind Liam. The guy stands about 5’ 11” and is all skin and bones. He’s angular, lots of sharp edges to him. His hair is on the spiky side, streaks of copper and dark brown mixed together. Louis is happy to note he doesn’t find him the least bit attractive.

“I’m Louis. Defender. Liam here is our goalie. He’s tough, you can’t get much past him - or me,” Louis says, cocking his thumb over to Liam.

“I know who you are. I’m Nathan Ario. Play forward. Could probably score on both of you, honestly,” Nathan says, stuffing his bag in his locker.

“Confidence. We like that around here,” Liam says, shaking Nathan’s hand. Louis goes to shake too and feels Nathan’s grip increase in a very obvious manner. He squeezes hard and Louis does his best not to flinch. There’s a glint in Nathan’s eye that Louis doesn’t like. When he lets go, Louis turns to face his own locker and shakes his hand out some.

“So Nathaniel, I’ve never seen you around. New here? Just wondering why you didn’t try out for regular season,” Louis says, attempting a tone of nonchalance. Liam is staring at Nathan like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“Transferred this semester. I’m a senior, went to Marble Bay before this. I was a little preoccupied earlier on, too distracted by my girlfriend,” Nathan says.

“Take it she’s not a sports fan then, mate?” Liam asks, flexing a little. Louis isn’t sure he knows he’s doing it. For all the rule following and general morality that makes up Liam Payne, once he’s put in a semi-confrontational situation, all bets are off. He can transform into a hulking beast on the pitch when he puts his mind to it. Nathan smirks at the question like Liam’s just said something outrageously funny.

“No, man. Not even a little. I’ll see you around, Tomlinson,” he says with a laugh and a look focused a little too long on Louis. When Nathan finally gets out of the locker room, Louis whirls around to spout off at Liam.

“Okay, he’s one of the bad guys right?” he asks plainly. Liam cracks a few knuckles, looking thoughtful.

“You know, I’m not sure. He’s got some bravado, some arrogance about him, but he didn’t seem like the worst person on the planet,” Liam says. Louis grabs his bag and kicks his locker closed with his untied trainer.

“I don’t want to be stuck on winter footie with that cad. He nearly broke my hand. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me,” Louis mutters.

“Oh, you poor baby. You’ve got to toughen up, Louis. Harry won’t come to any of your matches if you wuss out,” Liam says, shoving Louis lightly on the shoulder. Louis makes to trap Liam’s head, giving him one of his specialty noogies. Liam ducks out of his grasp, both of them laughing. He and Liam leave the locker room together and stroll onto the quad. It’s a brilliant day out, people everywhere. Louis lights up his only cigarette of the day. He’s been desperate for one all weekend, and this Nathan person has pushed him right to the edge.

“You don’t think it’s at all possible that he’s the one after me?” Louis muses as they pass a few kids from their class. He blows a stream of smoke over at Liam, who swats it away. He shouts at one girl with her skirt rolled a few inches too high before answering Louis.

“I think your paranoia is getting to you. Next thing we know, you’ll tell me someone’s been following you,” Liam says, whacking him on the back. Louis isn’t so sure he agrees. This can be the excuse he uses to go talk to Harry though.

“You know Li, I realize I have loads of homework to do but I think I’m going to go check on Harold. Make sure he’s safe, make sure Nathan hasn’t snuffed him out yet,” Louis says, straying from Liam in the direction of the underclassmen dorms. Liam shifts directions to catch up with him.

“Oh, no you don’t. Not letting you go there alone, no way,” Liam says. Louis rolls his eyes.

“We don’t need you as a chaperone, _Dad_. I have very important business to discuss with him and I don’t have his phone number, so tell me Liam, how do you expect me to get in touch?” Louis asks.

“Carrier pigeon, smoke signals, morse code,” Liam lists as they walk into the underclassmen dorm. It’s much more quiet here than in the international dorm, all these younger kids so obsessed with maintaining their perfect grades and their perfect images. Liam and Louis climb to the first floor and Louis finds Harry’s room much easier this time around. He salutes to Cadley Wellington’s portrait, per tradition, before knocking on the door. Liam is still listing things, counting them on both hands now. The door swings open to a beaming Harry.

“Saw you through the peephole. I’m really happy to see you,” Harry bursts. He’s back in his normal school uniform looking a lot more relaxed than he’d been that morning in the dining hall. Louis grins, feels a pull of excitement in his stomach. He glances at Liam as he walks into Harry’s room.

“Your services won’t be necessary anymore Liam. I’m officially bidding you adieu,” he says with a flourish of his hand. Liam frowns, stopping the door before they close it on him.

“Unfair. Who’s to say you both won’t be kidnapped when you’re no longer on my watch?” Liam asks. Harry points to the door a few down from his.

“Nialler’s right there. Go entertain him if you’re so desperate to hang around. Here, I’ll even give you fresh baked biscuits if you promise to disappear for a while,” Harry says, ducking back in the room and grabbing a few biscuits neatly packaged in plastic. Louis stares at him, stunned.

“My own personal Betty Crocker. Amazing,” he says. Liam, never one to pass up free desserts, grabs the biscuits and heads down to Niall’s room. The door clicks shut and Harry passes Louis a biscuit. He bites in, crumbs all over his lips already.

“You’re too sweet for me, Curly,” he says. Harry just blushes. Of course.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**H**

 

Louis gets crumbs all over the floor of Harry’s dorm room, but Harry’s not bothered in the least. The last few days have crawled by and despite Niall’s best efforts to keep him both occupied and safe, it hasn’t stopped his thoughts late at night. Wondering what it’d feel like to be held by Louis, to be trapped against him in the stacks of the library or sneaking back out to the pitch, to breathe him in and suck on his neck and yes, Harry does get carried away. But now he’s here, in his room, like some kind of apparition.

“I missed you, Curly” Louis says, fiddling with his fringe. Harry beams.

“Me too,” he responds. “Thought I’d dreamed you for a minute there. Wasn’t sure you’d be back.” Louis peers at him, grabs hold of his tie and tugs him closer, slowly. Harry follows, helpless to resist.

“I am indeed very real. How could I stay away? Our story now includes a late night snog _and_ murder. It’s the most intriguing tale of the century,” Louis murmurs. Harry feels dizzy. Louis is solid and real and waiting for him. His mind won’t turn off. The words reach his lips before his brain screams at him to stop.

“Should we talk about the kiss?” he asks. If Niall was here, he would’ve rolled his eyes hard at that question. Louis smirks at him.

“I do love a good chat, Harold, but I don’t think I want to use my mouth for words right now,” Louis says. Harry could die. He could die right here on the spot from the way his entire body is burning just from one sentence tumbling out of Louis’ perfect lips. “You wear your uniform _really_ well and I’m going to be honest, it’s driving me insane,” Louis says, drifting towards Harry like a magnet. Harry feels every nerve ending in his body standing to attention, hyper aware of the breath on his face and the lingering scent of sweat clinging to Louis.

“I’ve always thought the second kiss was harder to get to,” Harry rambles, shakily moving his hands to Louis’ waist. “It’s the one you have to work for. It’s never easy.” Louis presses closer to him, runs his fingers through Harry’s tangle of curls.

“This feels easy,” Louis says, and Harry closes the gap between them this time. His eyes close and they kiss softly at first, Harry in agony over the feeling of Louis’ body against his. He tastes like cloves, like the sweetness of the biscuit he swiped, like a hint of cinnamon. Louis’ lips part slightly and their kiss deepens. Harry wills his body not to shift into overdrive but can feel all the blood rushing, rushing downward. Louis pulls back for a minute, hazy-eyed.

“I was coming to talk to you about something important,” he whispers, pressing Harry backwards, walking him towards Harry’s bed.

“It can wait,” Harry says, feeling his mattress hit the back of his calves. Louis lowers him down, lets him settle down against the familiar blankets and pillows before crawling on top of him. He stares up at Louis straddling his hips, fringe hiding his eyes. His heart’s beating loud, he’s certain Louis has to be able to hear it. Louis begins fiddling with Harry’s tie, trying to loosen it. He scrambles to undo it with shaking hands, tosses it to the floor. Louis grins at him, begins unbuttoning Harry’s shirt. He lies still, isn’t sure where to put his hands while Louis works his shirt open. Before he gets a chance to think, Louis is branding a burning kiss to the side of his neck right underneath his jaw.

“Jesus,” he whispers, straining his head back. Louis nips at the area, hot mouth on his skin. Harry can feel the bulge in his pants growing. If Louis was to shift just slightly above him, to rub against the spot just so, he’d come undone. Harry’s trying to think about what to do from here. He’s never done this much before with a girl, let alone a boy. He tugs at Louis’ sweatshirt, sneaks a peek of his toned stomach. Louis unattaches himself from Harry’s neck and pinches his cheek in a sweet way.

“Someone’s getting overeager. Trying to take my top off,” Louis says with laughter in his voice.

“Sorry, I just don’t know where to put my hands. You good?” Harry asks, his voice hoarse, wanting to learn every inch of his skin. Louis grabs both of Harry’s hands, places them gently on his hips.

“Grand, Harry. Maybe a tad nervous. Maybe you are, too?” Louis asks before leaning down for another kiss. The slide of skin against skin lights Harry on fire. He has no idea what Louis would be nervous for. He’s too good at this. They’re too good at this, together. His heartbeat pounding in his ears mingles with the soft sounds of their shared breaths, little gasps and mouth noises filling up Harry’s tiny dorm room. Harry kisses Louis deeper, wants to feel the warmth of his tongue. He pulls Louis’ head closer and their teeth click, their noses bump, they both shift away. It’s like a spell has been broken. Harry feels a flush upon his cheeks. Louis giggles softly into his hand as he sits back on his knees again.

“Okay, maybe things got a little awkward there. Sorry about the teeth,” Harry whispers to Louis. Louis pulls on one of Harry’s curls.

“It’s fine, we just need more practice. This is new for me, remember,” Louis says, a smile on his face so big it reaches his eyes. Harry sits up, his face now level with Louis’.

“New for me too, Lou,” he says. Louis ducks his head, bashful.

“Got a pet name for me now, Curly?”Louis asks. Harry bites his lip.

“Is that okay? If you hate it, I can just call you Louis. I don’t know what I’m doing, honestly,” Harry asks. He’s talking too much, his words coming out fast and furious. Louis places his hands on Harry’s jawline, cupping his face.

“Breathe, please,” Louis urges. Harry takes in a deep breath, blows it out. He doesn’t want to put Louis on the spot. One kiss hardly means they’re married, a few more doesn’t make them boyfriends officially. Harry feels out of his depth. He can picture it though, him and Louis walking hand-in-hand on campus. Could see them attending the ridiculous school dance together, exploring the woods off-campus, can see himself cheering Louis on at his footie matches. Harry wants that. But the world is rarely so simple and accepting. He can’t even begin to think what it would mean for them both to be openly out, known on campus amongst their friends and teachers and teammates and family.

“I like you calling me Lou. It’s cute,” Louis says, brushing a runaway curl off Harry’s face. Harry’s snapped out of his worried thoughts for only a moment. Louis’ eyes are such a brilliant blue. He sees trust there, some apprehension but also a sparkle of joy.

“Now that you have me in this compromised position, what exactly was so important that you were going to interrupt our snog for?” Harry asks, genuinely curious.

“The moment’s ruined, innit? We got too caught up, had a teeth mishap and now we’re back to business as usual. What I was going to tell you,” Louis says, pecking Harry on the lips quickly before he can even react,“—was that I met a shady figure in the locker room who I’m suspicious of.” Harry arches an eyebrow. The tension that managed to disappear within the last few days, the last few minutes really, has reared its ugly head again.

“I don’t like the sound of that. Shady figures make me nervous,” Harry mutters as he begins to button his shirt back up. Louis climbs out of his lap, sits next to him on the bed as if he’d come over to just do homework. His lips are puffy and red, his hair wild. Harry nervously adjusts his crotch and pretends not to notice Louis doing the same.

“His name’s Nathan, which _really_ , should tell you everything you need to know,” Louis says, leaning back against the wall.

“Are Nathans notoriously shady?” Harry asks.

“Quite. Ever see that American show, One Tree Hill? The whole first season had this dickhead Nathan causing drama all the time. His dad was worse, though,” Louis says.

“Never heard of it,” Harry responds. Louis makes a strangled noise in his throat.

“You must be joking. One Tree Hill is only one of the greatest shows to ever grace a telly set. Honestly, Harry, you need some culture,” Louis says.

“Guess we’ll just have to watch it together then, won’t we?” Harry asks, feeling bold. Watching telly together feels like something the most platonic of lad bros would do. Totally normal. No kissing involved. Nope.

“Cheers. I’ll have you round to my dorm some other time. We can tell Liam we’re just watching telly but I can’t be held responsible for my actions otherwise after you get there and the door is closed,” Louis shoots back with a grin. Harry wants to pin him down on his bed and kiss the smirk off him, but he restrains.

“So it’s a date, then?” Harry asks. He wants to come across calm and collected, but his voice sounds a little too hopeful to his ears. Louis shifts closer to him on the bed, tentatively places his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Precisely. A date, Mr. Styles,” Louis says softly. Harry leans in to Louis’ side, delighted that he fits against him so well. He burrows his head into the side of Louis’ neck, breathing him in. Clove cigarettes and spicy cinnamon again.

“Have you been smoking, Louis?” Harry asks. Louis untangles his arm from Harry’s shoulders then, crosses his arms across his chest.

“Maybe. That a turn off for you? I only do it in times of stress,” Louis mutters, a tiny frown on his face.

“I mean,” Harry says with a laugh, “I don’t love the idea of it. But if it’s an only-sometimes thing, s’alright for me. Life’s been pretty stressful hasn’t it?”

“After Liam and I met Nathan, I lit up basically immediately after. It’s a piss-poor coping mechanism, I know. Someone stalks me, I turn into a chimney,” Louis mutters.

“So tell me about him then. Nathan. What makes you think he’s the one?” Harry asks, taking Louis’ hand in his. He studies Louis’ long fingers, clipped nails, a smudge of ink on the side of his hand.

“Well he looked the part. Lad was tall, had that spiky hairdo that we were only able to make out in the dark,” Louis begins.

“Doesn’t mean it’s him for sure. Lots of guys around campus with that kind of hair, right? What else?” Harry asks.

“He was just… not the friendliest. He approached me and Li in the locker room after practice. Off-handedly mentioned his girlfriend in a way that just spooked me a little. I’m probably worrying for nothing,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s hand. A rap at the door makes them both look up. Niall pushes the door open a crack.

“Everyone decent?” he shouts. Harry throws a pillow at the door to shut him up.

“All fine, Nialler. We were in the middle of a serious chat,” Harry says, ducking as Niall launches the pillow back at his face. Liam trails Niall into the room, squints at Harry and Louis.

“You boys are up to something,” Liam says, pointing at the two of them.

“Just talking,” Louis says, batting his eyelashes at Liam. Liam shakes his head, looking wholly unconvinced.

“What about, lads? Liam and I were discussing the finer points of him never giving me detention ever again this year,” Niall says, taking a seat at Harry’s desk. Liam snorts at that.

“The usual, you know. Some show called One Tree Hill?” Harry says from his spot on the bed. Liam groans audibly, hangs his head and shoots a pointed look at Louis.

“Please tell me you didn’t try to get Harry to watch this show with you now. Harry, Louis has been trying to convince me for two years. I refuse,” Liam says.

“Thanks a lot, Liam. Glad to know you’re always in my corner. Harry already agreed,” Louis says, looking smug.

“Whipped already, that didn’t take long. You two exchange promise rings yet or what?” Niall says, cracking himself up. Harry goes red, as he so often does, and doesn’t look at Louis. He could kill Niall with his bare hands right now. They’re just friends. Friends who kiss, sometimes. That’s all. Louis chuckles to himself, easing the tension in the room.

“Jealous much, Niall? Might be monopolizing all your bestie time soon,” Louis says breezily, settling closer next to Harry.

“Don’t test me, Tommo,” Niall says.

“Tommo? That’s a new one,” Louis responds. From the hallway, a shadow falls upon Harry’s doorway. Harry freezes up, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He’s never met the Nathan that Louis was talking about, but for all he knows, he’s returned to kill all of them now. Liam glances behind him to the spot where Harry’s worried stare has landed. In the doorway, a tall, lanky figure comes into view. Harry feels himself relax. The moment of slight panic was for nothing. The guy in question has headphones on, bopping his head to music only he can hear. Dark spiked hair, fragile bone structure, and trainers that aren’t up to school code.

“Oi, it’s my roommate Zayn. He lives!” Niall exclaims, startling the boy outside from his music. Zayn yanks his earbuds out and stares at everyone in Harry’s room with cool judgement.

“Don’t need to announce it, mate. I’m only back to grab a few books and my hookah,” he says.

“While you’re at it, can you check on Plimpton? He’s been looking a little peaky,” Niall says. Harry forgets that no one else is even aware of Niall’s pet turtle. It’s his most prized possession.

“Niall, you didn’t show me this turtle. Pets aren’t allowed on campus. Neither are hookahs,” Liam utters like a robot.

“Was hiding Plimpton, obviously. That’s why I need you, Zayn, to just make sure he’s got enough water. I can’t be a neglectful parent,” Niall says. Zayn’s eyes dart from person to person as he stands silent, settling on Liam for a beat longer than everyone else. Liam looks to be on the verge of spouting off more school rules, but for once, he stays strangely quiet. Harry gives a little wave to Zayn. He hasn’t even seen him in person since move-in week. Louis nods a hello, and Liam seems to be unable to make eye contact.

“This is Louis and Liam,” Harry says by way of introductions, pointing them both out. Zayn shifts his backpack higher on his shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, lads. Harry, I’ve never seen this many people in your room at once like, ever,” Zayn says. Harry shrugs his shoulders. This is the most he’s ever heard Zayn speak, ever.

“They’re just here to hang out a bit. Louis and Liam are on the football team,” Harry says.

“Sick. Know a few lads trying out for winter league. Should be cool,” Zayn says, backing out of Harry’s room and heading for him and Niall’s. Louis perks up at the mention of winter league. Liam stares him down with a pleading look but Louis opens his mouth anyway.

“Winter league you say? Know any shifty lads named Nathan Ario, do you?” he yells. Louis waits for the response while Harry and Liam squirm uncomfortably. Zayn walks backwards into view again, smiles big. Harry’s used to the mega-voltage that comes from being smiled at from Zayn. He’s quiet, he’s never seen much, but when he lays the smile on you—you’re a goner. Liam is fidgeting with his quiff and staring at Zayn with what can only be thought of as unbridled intensity. Harry watches with amusement as Louis motions for him to stop.

“Heard of him, yeah. Think he’s in my calc class. Kind of a dick. What’s it to you lot?” Zayn asks. He sets his backpack down with a thud and turns the music off. “For real though, you guys want some hookah? Can hook you up. Liam, mate, you look like you need to relax,” Zayn continues. Liam looks absolutely shell-shocked.

 

**L**

 

Louis types out a text to Harry while he pretends to pay attention in history class. After the group powwow session from the other night, they both agreed that exchanging numbers made sense. Comes with the territory of kissing, basically. Louis has the other boys’ numbers as well, just in case.

**_L [2:21 pm] : what r u up to? never been so bored than i am today. entertain me?_ **

Louis waits impatiently for Harry to respond. He doodles in the margins of his notebooks, nods when his teacher addresses the class to make it look like he’s listening. He begins to study a pair of his classmates, a nauseating couple who can’t keep their hands off each other for more than five minutes. They make heart eyes at each other from across their desks. Usually when he sees them, he feels indifferent. But today he feels a pang of jealousy —they’re so open, so obvious about their feelings. He wants that too.

**_H [2:25 pm] : I’m not wearing any trousers. Entertained yet?_ **

Louis sits up a little higher, coughs and stares down at his phone. His teacher is droning on about Alexander Hamilton. Big, bloody deal - so the man’s on the ten dollar bill. He’s no Queen of England.

**_L [2:26 pm] : very. are you… alone… right now? paint me a picture._ **

Louis feels a heat burning low in his stomach. The only way for him to make it through this class and retreat to his room to have a wank is to play it off like nothing unusual is happening on his screen. He closes his eyes for a split second, definitely _not_ imagining Harry in a pair of skimpy boxer-briefs. Absolutely not.

**_H [2:28 pm] : I’m surrounded by men. Lots of heavy breathing happening. Getting me a little riled up, if you catch my drift._ **

**_L [2:28 pm] : don’t want other guys around you. you’re too pretty, will distract them with your dimples !!_ **

Louis can’t for the life of him picture Harry, wherever he is. The couple to his right have shoved their desks just a little closer together. He glances up at his teacher who hasn’t noticed and turns back to them.

“Stop being so fond of each other,” he whispers in a hiss as he watches them entwine their hands under one of the desks. They glare back at him, unaffected. He pulls a funny face at them for a laugh, then turns back around. His phone buzzes.

**_H [2:30 pm] : Is that jealousy I detect? You can’t get jealous, we’re not boyfriends._ **

Louis is taken aback by the statement. Harry, technically, is right. It’s not like they’re committed to each other, it’s not like they’ve both decided to only see each other exclusively. No titles to be found. A snog here or there, a little bit of hand-holding… no harm done. But Louis wants Harry for himself. He wants him more than he’s wanted anything recently.

**_L [2:32 pm] : thanks for the reminder, love. can we get back to you being trouser-less?_ **

He hopes his response is cheeky enough. His teacher at the front of the room has become aware of the couple near him, finally.

“Brench and Vasquez, desks back where they belong. You want to hold hands, take it outside after class. This is just a private boarding school, your romance can’t compete with Hamilton and Eliza,” his teacher says, tapping the history book he’s reading from. Louis can hear the scrape of desks being moved, the whole class tittering away, but his eyes are fixed on an incoming photo message from Harry. His heart pounds and he can feel a sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead. His tie feels too tight, his trousers are nearly cutting off the circulation to his cock. He’s not sure he’ll be able to survive whatever picture is coming.

He clicks to view the message and all the tension leaves his body. It’s the bottom half of Harry in a pair of navy Wellington gym shorts. His long legs are skinny. The shorts show off his toned calves and dusting of hair that goes all the way down to his high socks. In the background, he sees a few other guys working out. He’s in the fucking weight room for PE. Louis could strangle him.

**_L [2:36 pm] : you dick._ **

**_H [2:37 pm] : No, no, that comes out for the showers only._ **

Louis smirks to himself, half paying attention as his teacher assigns the required reading for next class. Only eight more minutes until he’s free. He hovers his fingertips over the keyboard on his phone, wondering how brave he can be. It’s always easier to be more witty, more seductive, when you aren’t face-to-face. Louis debates the pros and cons of sending Harry a bit of a dirty message. He internally declares that if his favorite couple decide to walk out the door holding hands, he’ll send it. He prepares the draft, watches the clock tick down impatiently. At the end of class, all his classmates shuffle out. He trains his eyes on the couple, watching them slowly grab hands just as they leave.

“Shit,” he whispers to himself, “here goes nothing.”

**_L [2:45 pm] : wouldn’t mind seeing your dick in the shower. leaving class now, may go think about you in those shorts for a while. ;-)_ **

Louis swallows hard while gathering up his books. The damage is done. He busies himself with getting out of the history building, taking great care to not check his phone. He can’t be certain if Harry’s responded yet. He’ll probably think he’s being too forward. Louis has probably dug his own grave already. He can beat whoever to the punch of killing him.

Now, Louis wishes he could take the text back. He speed walks past the footie pitch but stops short when he sees a new list tacked up on the bulletin board out front of the locker room. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he wants to puke. He draws nearer to the list, noting it’s the sign-up sheet for Winter League. He spots Liam’s name first in his chicken scratch scrawl.

“Typical, has to be first,” he mutters under his breath, hunting for a pen to add his name. His eyes tick down the list, some names he knows and some he doesn’t. If he stares at the sheet long enough, he can ignore his phone. That means he’ll never have to view the rejection. Then he lands on Nathan’s name and his breathing stops. The handwriting is unmistakable. The careful, swooping letters. An elegant bit of handwriting, the prettiest calligraphy he’s ever seen. He’s wrenched out of his daze by his sister.

“Louis! I need you to call mum and tell her I need a new wardrobe for weekends. All the stuff she packed me is shit,” Lottie calls as she comes up next to him. She flanks his right side and stares at the Winter League list. Her voice sounds far away.

“Hello, earth to Louis. Maybe Fizzy will send me some of her cast-offs, you think?” she says. Louis stays silent. Lottie’s eyes go from him to the sign-up sheet.

“Winter league, huh? Liam’s beat you to it,” she rambles, snapping her gum and inspecting the pink streaks at the tips of her hair. Louis glances over at her, unblinking. She frowns at him, places her hand on his forehead.

“I’m not sick, Lottie,” he says, shoving her hand away. Lottie narrows her eyes at him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. If you’re getting ill, I’m staying far away from you. Can just email mum I guess, if I have to,” she says. Louis shifts his weight from one foot to the other, taking a look at Nathan’s signature again. He points at it, turns to face her.

“This is the exact same handwriting as the note I got, same as Harry’s too,” he says in a low voice. He snaps a photo of it on his phone, capturing it permanently. It’s like he has tunnel vision, he can’t see anything beyond the sheet and Lottie. People are moving across campus behind them but his vision is blurred, his pulse an uneven staccato.

“You’re sure?” Lottie asks, peering at it closer. He watches her study each stroke of the pen. Louis feels sick. Before checking Harry’s waiting message, he texts out a group chat to all the boys. They need to meet, and they need to meet now.

“Positive, Lottie. There’s no guessing on the handwriting. I knew there was something off about him,” he says, typing quickly.

_**GroupText to N, L, Z, H [2:59 pm] : SOS. Need to talk about Nathan. MEET ME IN THE INTL COMMON ROOM ASAP.** _

“Okay, shit. What now? What are you going to do?” Lottie asks him. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and scribbles his name on the sheet before answering her.

“We’ve got a meeting with Niall, Liam, Zayn and Harry right now. You’re coming with me,” he says, pulling her along with him. They run back to Louis’ dorm, Lottie keeping up easily with him. For all the footie practice he’s had, Lottie’s gone a step further with track. She’s always been the better runner in the family. Louis is wheezing by the time he reaches the common room in the dorm. He hunches over and coughs while Lottie smacks his back.

“You should stop smoking so much, Louis” she whispers. He flicks her off while in a crouch, then straightens up. The common room is empty, save for the remnants of someone’s lunch on one of the big oak tables. Lottie wanders over to the fireplace at the far end of the room and hits the switch. Louis thinks it’s a bit warm still for a fire, but it’s nice. It casts the common area in a cheerful glow. Zayn is the first to trudge in, headphones still on. He raises his eyebrows at Louis without saying a word before taking a seat at the table. So mysterious, so aloof. Liam filters in after, a swiss cake roll in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“You’re always eating, Liam. Do you ever just stop being hungry?” Louis asks, ducking out of the way from Liam’s well-timed punch.

“Don’t hate on me cause I’m well-fed. You wish you had one of these,” Liam mutters, dancing around the table like he doesn’t know where to sit. Louis watches him with growing suspicion as he seems to hesitate behind Zayn, looking to be having a mental crisis about which seat to choose. Zayn is oblivious, too lost in his music to be aware of awkward Liam behind him. Liam eventually chooses a seat four away from Zayn at the head of the table. He stuffs the swiss roll remnants in his mouth and stares at the varnish on the table, silent. Louis is about to give him shit when Niall and Harry walk in. Harry shuts the door behind him and definitely doesn’t make eye contact with Louis. _How unusual_ , he thinks to himself. Louis tries not to let it get to him, and he picks a spot at the table once everyone’s settled.

“So what’s this new update about Nathan? Sounded serious,” Niall says, plucking one of Zayn’s earbuds out from his ears.

“Off the merchandise, man,” Zayn says, smacking at Niall’s hand. Niall giggles and the sound echos through the whole room. Louis opens his mouth but Lottie speaks up first.

“He found Nathan’s siggy on the sign-up sheet. It’s the same calligraphy and everything. Also hello, I’m Lottie, his sister,” Lottie says, giving a little wave to all the boys. She smiles at Harry in particular, leaning forward on her arms.

“Guess we don’t need introducing, do we? We’ve met before,” she whispers, winking at Harry. Louis’ mouth is gaping open. He should’ve never told her a thing. Harry shifts in his seat, keeps picking at the skin on his hands. Something’s off with him.

“Anyway, what Lottie is trying to explain is that I have proof that the handwriting matches up, and everything is fucked,” Louis exclaims, pulling out his phone. Harry launches out of his seat and grabs it before Louis can even pull up the photo.

“Curly, what in Gods’ name are you doing? You don’t have to be such a spaz,” Louis says. Niall just sits and laughs, Liam looks stunned and Zayn has a small smirk on his face.

“Just wanted to check something,” Harry mutters, face aflame. Louis snatches the phone back and notices Harry had pulled up their texts from earlier. He sneaks a peek at the one response he had been waiting on.

**_H [2:48 pm] : You’ve got me hot and bothered, and these shorts really aren’t leaving much left to the imagination anymore since I’m hard. Think I’ll imagine you too, in the shower with me. Can’t wait to see you again._ **

“Ah,” Louis yells, exits out of the messaging screen for good. His body is flushed and he claws at the collar of his shirt. “Just a few technical difficulties here, hang on lads… lads and Lottie. Got the photo just, give me a minute. Lottie, maybe we don’t need the fire. It’s blazing in here,” Louis says before he shoots a glance at Harry.

“Why are you such a freak?” Lottie says under her breath. Liam laughs at that and Louis just keeps his eyes on Harry. He licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. Harry shoves a hand through his hair, exhales a breath he must’ve been holding. Louis wants so badly to tell everyone to go fuck off somewhere else so him and Harry can do some more exploring of each other in private but there’s a task at hand, no matter the feelings pooling low and insistent in his groin. He gets himself together, willing his body to behave.

“Read it and weep boys, we’ve got the murderer figured out,” Louis says, slamming the phone on the table with the photo displayed. Everyone crowds in to look, Harry’s eyebrows shooting up as he takes in the handwriting.

“You’re right. He’s right, lads, this has to be it. There’s no one else. But you said he mentioned his girlfriend once,” Harry says, spinning the phone to look at it closer. Liam jumps in, finds his voice again. He settles a shaky stare at Zayn before speaking.

“Right, right. He said she wasn’t a sports fan, not at all. I took that to mean that she never watched him play footie but maybe—” Liam says.

“—maybe he bloody killed her and dead people can’t like sports because they’re fucking dead?” Zayn finishes. Liam goes a little red. Zayn cracks his knuckles and shrugs, stares down the rest of the group while they stare back at him, dumbfounded.

“That plan Harry had once, about using someone as bait? May not be the worst idea. We need to catch this motherfucker before he hurts someone else,” Niall says with a determined look on his face.

“It’s too risky,” Liam says.

“If we just really controlled it, maybe got him on audio or something confessing…” Lottie says. Niall sits back in his chair and stretches his neck.

“Tommo, your sister has good ideas. It’d have to be sneaky, we’d all have to be monitoring every single move,” Niall says.

“But which of us goes? Which of us is enough for him?” Louis asks the group. Everyone’s quiet now. The fire crackles merrily and if this was any other universe, any other day, Louis would feel soothed by the sound.

“It’d have to be me or you, Lou,” Harry says, his shoulders a bit hunched. Louis’ heart hurts at the thought.

“I could swipe some audio-visual equipment from the tech lab if we need it,” Zayn says.

“Harry, it can’t be you,” Louis says softly. Liam’s brows are furrowed, looking between Louis and Harry like maybe there’s another option.

“It can be. And it will be,” Harry says, standing up. “I was first. He knew me, first. I’m the one that gave us away in the first place when Mariah… when he killed her.” Louis stands up from his chair and makes his way over to Harry, keenly aware of everyone staring like they’re watching a movie unfold in front of them.

“See that’s where you’re wrong, love. Nathan’s got an eye on me from footie. Liam saw the way he looked at me. Think I’d be a better bait,” Louis says, studying Harry. Sweet, brave Harry with a hint of tears in his eyes at this very moment.

“What if it all goes wrong?” Harry asks, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“Won’t let that happen,” Louis responds, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. Zayn launches into the benefits of wearing a wire and Niall begins drafting out ideas in Liam’s notebook. Lottie shoots down particularly bad ideas, one by one, and Harry and Louis remain standing, moorless, lost in the chaos.


	7. Chapter 7

**H**

 

For a Friday evening, the library is practically a ghost town. Harry is one of only a few students on the top floor. His face is lit by the glow of a green lamp as he pores over the books in front of him. Harry isn’t studying for any of his classes. Upon Zayn’s suggestion, he’s hunkered down at the library to sift through the class yearbooks. Every year, Wellington publishes a hodgepodge of photos and notes about each class that passes through the hallowed gates. Between Harry and the others, no one could come up with any vital information about Nathan besides his douchey personality and interest in football. Harry shifts in his seat, scanning Nathan’s class profile.

Nathan Ario is a senior, hailing from Newport, Rhode Island. His parents are only named, so Harry can’t figure out what they do. Newport’s a ritzy area, from what he’s heard, so he assumes Nathan must come from money—much like everyone else here. He scribbles this detail on a spare bit of paper. School activities include recreational soccer, archery club and philosophy club. There are a few snapshots of him with groups of friends, a few action shots of him at archery. One caption warning of Nathan’s “deadly aim” makes him shiver. Otherwise, nothing relevant or interesting.

He absently flips through the pages of another yearbook he grabbed for the class below his. He stops abruptly on a page he hadn’t been anticipating. Mariah Coldwell. He ducks his head down, traces his fingertips over the letters of her name. She was from Cincinnati, Ohio with two younger siblings. Her parents names were Elizabeth and Douglas. Harry feels a surge of anger wash over him at the waste of life. _Her_ life. She was someone’s daughter, someone’s sibling. She clearly loved being a member of Wellington’s equestrian team, and also volunteered with local kids in an after-school program. Her photos are mainly of her with horses, or posing smiling with children.

The last one makes him stop cold. Mariah with Nathan, his arm around her, pulling her in tight. She looks happy, staring at Nathan like he hung her the moon. Harry snaps the yearbook shut hard, startling a few other students nearby.

“Sorry,” he whispers. He scribbles down more notes on his paper about Mariah’s connection to Nathan. He stops to wonder how no one could’ve followed up on this. Did not one policeman question Nathan the night of her murder? How did they overlook this obvious detail? Then he recalls the note, the neat explanation given. Case closed.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, conjuring her suicide note in his mind. He’s never seen it but would bet all the money he has that the handwriting was penned perfectly. Too perfectly. Harry hears a shuffle of movement to his right and feels hands cover his eyes. He tenses up, afraid someone’s caught him digging into details that should be well left alone.

“You look hot when you’re studying,” Louis whispers into his ear. Harry sighs, grabs at Louis’ hands and pulls them away to whirl around and get a good look at him.

“You scared me half to death,” Harry says in a low voice, aware he can’t talk too loud. He’s already disturbed people once tonight. “I’m researching our favorite, friendly murderer.” Louis plunks down in the seat next to him, swipes his notebook and studies his commentary.

“They dated?” Louis asks, leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the table. Harry sneaks a long, lingering glance at him while he reads. They haven’t discussed much since his text incident beyond Nathan and the murder. There hasn’t been much time for chit chat about showering together either. He drinks in the view while he has the chance. Louis’ profile could cut glass, but he looks softer in the lamplight of the library. He’s wearing his Wellington blazer with a button down underneath, his khakis pressed, and he’s sporting Vans today instead of the usual dress shoes. Harry drags his gaze down from Louis’ chestnut hair to the long lines of his neck. He’s aching to touch him and feel his pulse jump under his fingertips.

“I only just made the connection from her yearbook photos. Wonder if he just killed her in some kind of jealous fit,” Harry muses. Louis rocks his chair back to level and gets his feet back on the ground. He looks behind them, taking note of the near empty library. Louis gets up and takes Harry’s hand in his.

“Curly, I think you need to do some more research,” he whispers. Harry’s confused but grips Louis’ hand tightly. He spares a glance to make sure no one’s watching them, as if all the attention in the room will hit them like a spotlight from just grasping hands. No one is paying them any mind.

“I looked through all the yearbooks, Louis. There’s nothing else,” he says as he rises to his feet. Louis tugs him towards the long stacks in the back of the library.

“No, you missed something. In the stacks. Come on, Harold, you’ve got to keep up,” Louis says, walking backwards and dragging him along. Louis’ eyebrows jump once, twice. Harry’s heart skips a beat as it starts to dawn on him that there is no actual research back here. Louis rushes him to the very back, the darkest corner, the Biography section that no one ever frequents.

“Clever boy,” Harry whispers with a smile as Louis shoves him a little roughly against the “R-T” section. He thinks he likes it. Louis meets his statement with a kiss, already open and deep, their tongues dancing against each others. Harry’s been dreaming of this, doesn’t know how they’ve waited so long to do this again. Louis pulls back, his eyes dark.

“Did you mean what you said? About the showers?” he asks, running his hands down Harry’s body. Harry sighs, the sound desperate and shaky in his throat.

“Course I did. You’re all I think about Louis. Like, I know we haven’t talked enough about—” Harry begins.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Louis says and Harry wastes no time, kisses Louis back like they just might die tomorrow. The reality is, they actually might die. Maybe not tomorrow, but within the next few days if all goes to plan and the plan goes to shit. Louis presses his body flush against Harry’s and the feeling of intensity only grows. Louis’ dick is hard and heavy, making itself known quite obviously against Harry’s thigh. Harry moves his lips to Louis’ neck, sucking small bruises down to his collarbone. He pulls at his button down with shaking hands, needs to get closer to him. A gasp is wrenched from his own throat as Louis cups his cock suddenly and squeezes. The pressure alone is enough to make him dizzy.

“Louis,” he stutters out, not trusting himself to stay quiet much longer.

“Does this feel good?” Louis whispers, plying his fingers over the crotch of Harry’s trousers. Harry arches his head back and hits the bookshelf with more force than he intended. A book or two (Ronald Reagan, Sylvester Stallone) fall to the ground around them. Harry feels out of control, just nods at Louis, urging him to keep touching him. He pulls Louis closer by his belt loops, tentatively brushing his own fingertips against the length of Louis’ dick. Louis emits a low growling sound, nuzzles his head into Harry’s neck.

“Harry would you mind… can I suck you off?” Louis asks in a small voice. All of Harry’s blood has rushed to his groin. He wants to say yes. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t. He feels awkward and they’re in a library and anyone could just appear and catch them. Louis glances up at him again, biting his lip.

“I want to. God, do I want to. I just feel like,” Harry starts, shoving some of his fringe away from his face, breathing hard.

“Too soon? Too fast? I’m getting carried away but at least I was polite,” Louis says, kissing his cheek. Harry pulls Louis’ body closer, needs him to understand it’s not about not wanting him.

“Need to be wined and dined, proper-like, first,” Harry whispers with a smile. Louis smiles back and squeezes Harry’s bum, causing Harry to yelp a little louder than he’d like. They kiss again, frantic and sloppy and Harry loves it. He loves it so much.

“Take you on a real date,” Louis says when they pull away, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “Find a place off campus, stuff you full of expensive food and make googly eyes at each other across the table. Is that what you want, Harry?”

“We could go anywhere. I just want to know you. All of you,” Harry responds, pulling Louis back in for another kiss. Louis’ mouth is hot and insistent on his. Harry dares to reach for Louis’ crotch again, toys with the button on his khakis.

“God, if this was what I was missing by actually being with a lad, I should’ve met you sooner,” Louis mutters, his eyes fluttering closed. A few pressed kisses, a few fumbling steps against the bookshelf. They try to keep silent.

“Best research I’ve ever done,” Harry whispers into his mouth. He meets teeth because Louis is smiling so hard. They part, still wrapped up in each other, both of them out of breath. Harry’s happy. He’s got this little buzz going, and he’s surprised to see Louis’ face go a little more serious.

“Maybe we should talk about what this all means, yeah?” Louis asks, pinching Harry’s bum once more and leaning down to scoop up the fallen books. Louis is a vision when he straightens up. His lips are all puffy, his button down bunched up around his waist.

“Talking could be good. I like kissing you loads, but talking is smart. Not to sound like a walking cliche, Lou, but… what are we?” Harry asks, adjusting his trousers and fixing his hair back to its normal state.

“Is this your backwards way of asking me to like… go steady with you?” Louis asks, peering at Harry in the low light.

“It’d be nice to be someone’s boyfriend,” Harry responds quietly. Louis hums at that, takes his hand and walks him back to the more public area of the library. Harry never lets go but is still uneasy at the people who could see them. The main study area has gotten a little busier since they left in such a rush.

“If there’s anything One Tree Hill’s taught me, Harold, it’s that everyone loves a big, romantic gesture. Even if it’s misguided,” Louis mutters before dropping Harry’s hand. Harry watches in slight horror as Louis scrambles on top of the study table Harry was at, shoving the yearbooks farther away with his foot.

“Louis, what the fuck are you doing?” Harry hisses, clearly aware that all eyes are on them now. There are girls from his art history class, of course, lurking by one of the copiers with their phones out. He spots a few guys from Louis’ football team working on some group project. This could be a disaster. Harry has no idea where he’s going with this.

“Everyone, I have an announcement. If you don’t know, I’m Louis Tomlinson,” Louis exclaims. Harry’s counting down the seconds until one of the librarians makes it up here to quiet all the noise. One of Louis’ teammates chucks a pencil at him and Louis ducks, giving him the finger.

“And this here, this charming lad with the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen, is Harry Styles,” Louis says, pointing down at Harry. Harry gives a weak wave to the crowd, feels his stomach lurching.

“Louis, you don’t have to do this,” Harry whispers, pulling on his pant legs to get him down.

“Shut it, Harry. I’m all in. Are you? I won’t say anything more unless you want me to,” Louis says, staring down at Harry. Harry looks up at him, looks out at the crowd who are so clearly curious about what’s going on. This is one of those moments he won’t soon forget. If he lets Louis give whatever big speech he has cooked up, that could change everything for him; thrust him into a spotlight he’s not sure he was ready for when he woke up this morning. Louis has such a fond look on his face. He is patiently waiting for Harry to tell him yes or no, and Harry loves him for it. Harry takes a deep breath and nods at him. Time for some honesty. Louis clears his throat before addressing the library again.

“So in case you were wondering, everybody, Harry and I are together. Dating. Boyfriends. The whole nine yards and whatever,” Louis says, beaming out at the crowd. Harry watches the art history girls dissolve into giggles, checks the shocked look on some people’s faces. He could stand here and feel embarrassed over the attention, but seeing Louis up there so proud, putting everything on the line gives him a quiet kind of confidence. Before he thinks too hard about it, Harry climbs up on the table and stands next to Louis. He takes his hand and plants a kiss on his knuckles. Louis’ face is a little red.

“Didn’t expect you to get up here with me, mate” Louis says over the din of hoots and hollers from various classmates. Harry’s phone is buzzing, probably from Niall or Liam or someone who’s already seen the Snapchat video he’s certain exists of Louis’ outburst.

“You’re all in, I’m all in too. Kind of refreshing, isn’t it? Being honest?” Harry says.

“I just outed us,” Louis says with a small giggle.

“At least now we don’t have to hide, right? No matter the implications. Does your family know?” Harry asks him.

“Mum, Lottie, maybe Fiz, I’m not sure. Dad, definitely not. But you know what? This will just piss him off a little more and honestly I’m fine with that,” Louis says. Harry reaches for Louis’ face, does one small sweep of the room with his eyes, and kisses Louis softly on the mouth.

“Get it, Tomlinson,” a voice crows from the crowd.

“That was probably a footie mate of mine. Hope they don’t all hate me now,” Louis says as they break away.

“Valentina is going to freak the fuck out,” some girl whines. Harry has to laugh.

“Impossible, you’re impossible to hate. I’m pretty sure this bold, romantic gesture has just affirmed half my art history’s thoughts about me. What a weird night” Harry says, brushing away a lock of hair from Louis’ forehead. Louis smiles and they clamber down from the table. As Harry gathers the yearbooks and places them back where they belong, he catches a glimpse of Louis talking to a few of his teammates. Most everyone’s smiling and slapping backs like nothing out-of-the-ordinary has happened. He checks his phone and sees that Niall was the one texting him.

**_N [9:47 pm] : Mate, did you know you’ve been added to Wellington’s snap story tonight?_ **

**_N [9:48 pm] : Jesus fucking christ, Harry. There’s fucking video. Are you okay? What is happening?_ **

**_N [9:49 pm] : You and Louis are officially a couple and me and Zayn are sitting here just cracking up. Did he actually get on a table?_ **

**_N [9:50 pm] : OMG YOU’RE ON THE TABLE TOO. YOU DON’T EVEN LIKE HEIGHTS._ **

**_N [9:52 pm] : Bro, maybe call me._ **

**_N [9:53 pm] : HARVEY EDWARD STYLES, answer your phone._ **

**_H [9:54 pm] : All fine, Niall. Surprise, I now have a boyfriend. Will fill you in later. PS - got more dirt on Nathan. Know who he was dating? Give you one guess._ **

“Reckon we should get going?” Louis asks as he approaches Harry at the yearbook area. Harry nods and reaches for his hand.

“Okay, boyfriend,” Harry says, smiling hard. He can’t stop smiling.

“ _Love_ the sound of that. Boyfriend,” Louis says, tugging him along.

“Just please Louis, promise me that you aren’t going to die on me in the next couple of days. I’d really like that date,” Harry murmurs in his ear as they head out of the library together.

“We’ve got a plan, Harry. It just needs a little perfecting. Everything’s going to be alright,” Louis reassures him. The night sky above campus is cloudy, a strong wind blowing and bringing a cold-front with it. Harry shivers and Louis wraps an arm around him, bringing him closer. Harry feels warm from the inside out.

 

**L**

 

Louis, Zayn and Liam are squashed into Zayn’s twin bed, while Harry and Niall are slumped on the floor. Lottie perches on Niall’s bed, inspecting Zayn’s audio equipment. Niall stifles a yawn and rubs at his eyes.

“We’ve been at this all night. I’ve got early pre-calc tomorrow,” he says, his head drooping onto Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey. He’s mine, Horan,” Louis says, snapping his fingers at Niall. Niall just shrugs and burrows deeper into the crook of Harry’s shoulder. Harry pats Niall’s hair and giggles.

“Oh, he’s fine Louis. Harmless. No need to be so protective,” Harry says. Louis scoffs at that and picks up the video camera Liam found in the dorm staff supply cupboard.

“You don’t reckon any upstanding resident advisors used this camera to, oh I don’t know, film themselves having a bit of x-rated fun, do you?” Louis asks, a cheshire grin spreading across his face. Liam shudders next to Zayn, shoots Louis his best ‘dissapointed’ look.

“Inspected the film myself. We’re golden. Nothing on there,” Liam says, inching away from Zayn a tiny bit. Louis has no idea what the deal is with Zayn and Liam. Liam keeps getting himself into situations where he can be close to Zayn, but then turns into a total chickenshit when he’s within three inches of him.

“Too bad,” Zayn says, eyes directed only at Liam. “Could’ve been fun to watch.” Liam coughs a few times and Zayn just smiles to himself, leans back against the wall and bumps Liam’s leg with his own. Lottie motions for Louis to stand up.

“We have to test this, see if it works on you. We just tape the wire on him, yeah?” Lottie asks. Zayn gets off the bed and lifts Louis’ shirt. Harry crows from his seat on the floor.

“Jealous. I’m very jealous. Look at those abs,” Harry deadpans. Louis ducks around Zayn to wink at Harry.

“You flatter me, Harry. See anything you like?” he asks, preening a little while Zayn starts taping the wired microphone to his chest. Ever since Harry and Louis managed to become official, both with each other and with the rest of campus, it’s been a little easier to flirt and banter about. Louis hasn’t had to totally second-guess every look or touch or conversation.

“This looks legit,” Lottie says with a roll of her eyes at Louis’ most recent comment. Zayn tugs Louis’ shirt back down and takes a step back to inspect him.

“Well? Hidden enough? How do we know anyone will be able to hear me?” Louis asks, feeling a little itchy from the tape. They have a general plan that’s come together over the span of the last few days. Beyond a few frosty glances to Nathan occasionally after footie practice, Louis hasn’t had any direct run-ins with him recently. Zayn thought the best course of action to nab Nathan once and for all was hooking Louis up with a wire and earbud. He’ll be in Louis’ ear while he meets Nathan somewhere on campus, coaching him on what to say. Liam will be standing by with the video camera, taping the whole encounter as it goes down. The wired mic’ will transmit to Liam’s camera. Harry, Lottie and Niall will stand guard.

“This is feeling very CSI,” Harry says, swiping Zayn’s earbud and microphone before he has a chance to react. He fits it into his ear and wiggles his eyebrows at Louis. “Lou, I’m going to go wander off to the loo. I’ll talk to you while I take a wee, see if you can hear me.” Louis slaps Harry’s arse as he makes his way out the door which emits groans from everyone else in the room.

“You are nauseating,” Liam says as he tests the battery life on the camera.

“Please, like you have room to talk. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re into Zayn by the way you two make lovey-dovey eyes at each other,” Louis shoots back. Zayn has no reaction to that, but Liam’s face turns beet red.

“Mate, you’re off your rocker. All the stress is getting to your head,” Liam says loudly, very much not looking at Zayn anymore. Zayn comes to help Louis, leaning in much closer than he needs to in order to give Louis a very startling snarl.

“Can you not?” he whispers to Louis as he shoves him over to his cupboard.

“Listen, I don’t know you that well. I’m just taking the piss out of Liam. It’s all in good fun,” Louis says, adjusting his earpiece. Zayn fiddles with some of the cords, tamping down his shirt to ensure they’re hidden properly. He presses his lips together in a hard line, just glares at Louis before leaving him be. Louis definitely notices that he makes a beeline straight for Liam, watches him offer to help out with the camera. He feels strangely smug watching this happen in front of him. Lottie and Niall are going over the finer details of the plan for the 10th time. Louis starts inspecting Zayn’s impressive hookah collection in his cupboard when he hears the unmistakable sound of someone taking a wee.

“Harry, wow, you’re really doing it,” he murmurs. There’s a little static and then he hears a flush. This is ridiculous. Louis’ eyes light upon Zayn’s skateboard propped up against the cupboard door.

“Mate, can I get a go on this sometime?” he asks to the room but actually to Zayn, admiring the mishmash of graffiti and colors adorning the board.

“Right, told you I was taking a wee. You can hear me?” Harry asks, a little breathless. Louis lowers his voice a little.

“Course I can. You’ve got a strong stream, there. Color me impressed,” Louis says. Lottie chokes back a laugh and Louis smirks at her.

“Not the only thing impressive about me,” Harry says in a quiet voice. Louis glances back at everyone else in the room, presses himself a little farther into Zayn’s cupboard to muffle his voice.

“I bet not. So what’s next, Harry? You gonna stay in there a while? Think about me risking life and limb to save us both?” he whispers. He hears Harry intake a breath on the other end of the line, and then Louis hears Harry moan. His body turns electric. Harry can’t possibly be doing what Louis thinks he’s doing.

“Curly, are you having a wank?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice down. Zayn taps him on the shoulder and Louis yelps, turns around in a panic.

“How’s it going? You can hear him? As for the board, not a chance,” Zayn says with a grumpy look on his face.

“You’re such a charmer, Zayn. I hear him loud and clear,” Louis says, trying to speak louder than Harry in his ear, who seems to be coming totally undone with every second that passes.

“Louis, I wish you were doing this to me right now,” Harry mutters in his ear. He gasps, breath quickening, and Louis feels his own pants growing uncomfortably tight.

“Me too, love. Believe me,” he says.

“Tommo, check out the night setting on the camera. This will be great to get a clear shot,” Liam says, getting up to wave the camera in Louis’ face. As if he can focus on this plan at a moment like this.

“Yes, yes, god fucking yes,” he hears Harry repeating, his voice strangled. Louis gapes at Liam, pulse battering his ears.

“Jesus christ, sounds amazing,” Louis says, pressing himself back into Zayn’s cupboard. He feels too hot. This room is too hot. Liam stops coming towards him and just cocks his head.

“You’re so fucking strange sometimes, Louis,” Liam says. Louis shrugs, listens to the orgasm that is racking Harry’s body right now. He’s all of a few moments away, down the hall, but Louis can’t just go to him. He has to stay in this room and force himself to stay calm. A few minutes later, Harry bursts in, his face flushed and eyes glassy.

“How’d it go?” Niall asks, looking up from the notebook he’s been passing around with Lottie. Harry slumps down to the ground, stares up at Louis from the floor.

“Good. _Really_ good,” Harry says in a slurred voice. Louis wants to tackle him but the best he can do is palm his own dick to alleviate some of the pressure built up.

“Think we’ve got a solid plan here, mates. We’re good for Saturday night? Get this over with once and for all?” Liam asks, blatantly ignoring Harry breathing heavily on the floor. Louis keeps his eyes on Harry, who’s looking at him like he wants to tear him apart at the moment.

“Saturday, great. I’ll get him to meet me on the quad. Whatever. I’d really like to spend tomorrow with Harry, so just. Letting you all know. Don’t want interruptions,” Louis says. Harry’s curls are matted against his forehead and no one in the room is any wiser of what he just did in the washroom.

“You’re skipping class? Louis, honestly, one more mark on your record and—” Liam starts but Louis cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“If it’s my last full day in the world, and if Nathan succeeds in dismembering me on the spot or summat, the least you lot can do is grant me the courtesy to have a nice day with my boyfriend,” Louis says. He sees Harry smile at that, the word ‘boyfriend’ still sounding like magic, like something reverent and sacred passed between only them.

“Give ‘em a break, Liam. One day off isn’t going to make the world implode,” Niall says, stretching into a yawn.

“Tomorrow’s date day. I have to get my beauty sleep so I can look my best,” Harry mumbles, stretching on the floor. Louis grins down at him. He’s got the whole thing planned out. They’re hitting a hiking path nestled in the Berkshires, about 25 minutes from Wellington’s campus. Louis plans to take Harry grocery shopping for a picnic lunch to share on the trail. Then dinner will be at The Chocolate Fable. Louis and Lottie have passed it a billion times when they’ve driven back from the diner. It specializes in killer desserts (so says Yelp) and Louis thinks Harry’s going to love it. If their date just happens to end in a twin bed, so be it.

“Wouldn’t want dear _Herbert_ here to look any less than cute as a button in the morning,” Niall says, slapping Harry’s cheek a little. “I’m ready to pack it in. Boys, this is _me_ officially kicking all of _you_ out.” He jumps into his bed and shoves Liam with his foot, cackles like a hyena at him as he falls quite ungracefully onto the floor. Louis makes for the door, waving a good night to Niall. Harry, Lottie and a very pouty Liam shuffle behind him. They nearly shut the door on Zayn, who seems to not be sleeping in his own bed as usual. He’s got his skateboard under one arm and a book bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where are you off to now?” Lottie asks. Zayn just grins and shrugs his shoulders.

“The night is young. Later,” he says with a wink, zipping down the hall before Liam has a chance to yell about any more infractions like no skateboarding in the halls. Louis grabs Harry’s hand and walks him right to his door, which is only two down from Niall. So romantic. Harry bumps against his door, looking a little sleepy and very adorable.

“You know, I have a single room,” Harry says, biting his lip and staring at Louis with those green eyes of his. “Perhaps we can continue what I started in the loo.”

“Tempting, Curly. Very. But I’m going to leave you alone tonight. Will make tomorrow better. Anticipation and all that,” Louis says, his body wanting to rebel against his very practical line of thought. Lottie and Liam are waiting around, pretending to not watch Louis and Harry say their goodnights. Louis leans in and brushes his lips against Harry’s. It’s a sweet kiss, the kind with no urgency behind it, no agenda, no urge to push for more.

“Goodnight, sweet prince,” Louis whispers, tugging on one of Harry’s tousled curls. Harry looks like he could drift away to dreamland at any moment.

“Until tomorrow, King Louis,” Harry says back, waggling his fingers at Lottie and Liam before he holes up in bed for the night.

“You and Harry make me want to puke. Who talks like that? It’s like you’ve both managed to bring out the mushiest sides of each other,” Lottie says as they make their way out of the dorm. They reach outside and Louis takes a deep lungful of night air.

“Just jealous, isn’t she Liam? So who wants to walk me through the plan one more time so I know what’s going down. I was only paying half attention tonight,” Louis says, turning around just in time to see a retreating Liam heading in the opposite direction of Lottie’s dorm. “Oi, sneaking away so soon? Couldn’t imagine where you’re going. Off to see your secret lover?”

“None of your business where I’m off to. I’m a resident advisor, I have professional business to attend to before I retire,” Liam says, holding up his hands in protest as he continues to walk backwards, getting farther and farther away from Louis and Lottie.

“Bullshit. Spill,” Louis says, narrowing his eyes. Liam stops for a moment, his frantic gaze looking at anything but directly back at Louis.

“It’s quite really none of your business, Louis,” Liam says, crossing his arms. He frowns and looks like a toddler. Lottie looks between them and starts walking off towards her dorm.

“Men,” she says under her breath with a typical roll of her eyes.

“Hold up, Lotts, big brother isn’t letting you stalk off into the dark. If Nathan can’t get one Tomlinson dead, he might go for another,” Louis says, grabbing hold of Lottie’s hood. She tries to pull out of his grasp but Louis is stronger than he looks.

“He’s obviously not going to tell you where he’s going. Come on, I’m tired and we need to go over the plan one more time,” Lottie says with a whine. Liam looks smug as he begins to walk away, heading deeper into the heart of campus.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Louis. Have a good night,” he calls, waving. Louis sighs as he watches him go. His figure gets smaller and smaller before disappearing completely. It’s like he was never even there. Louis unclenches his fist from Lottie’s hood and instead slings an arm around her as they start walking again.

“He’s a good lad, Liam. Though ever since the murder it’s like he’s suddenly become a little more rebellious. Think I like it,” Louis says as they walk. They pass the Cadley Wellington statue and Louis and Lottie both do a little salute. It’s tradition.

“Are you nervous for Saturday? We really need to figure out the exact way you’re going to lure him out,” Lottie says, breaking their silence. Louis stops in front of a bench dedicated from the class of 2009 and parks his arse down, motions for Lottie to do the same. They sit and stare out at the rest of campus, glittering with amber light from the gas lamps. Louis spots one lone firefly. It sparks in the darkness, the only one leftover from the summer. Louis stretches his back as he sits and thinks about the all-important plan. His excitement for tomorrow is outweighing any of his dread for Saturday.

“Not nervous, Lottie. I’m more nervous for my date tomorrow than for potentially getting killed again,” he says with a grin. Lottie shakes her head at him.

“You have to take it a little seriously. Mum would kill me if I let you just walk into a trap. Imagine the shrieking on the phone if something goes wrong here,” she says.

“So tell me one more time, then. I am going to basically stalk him during Winter League tryouts and like… corner him in the locker room?” he asks.

“Right. Liam will be there, so at least you’ll have someone who can keep things under control. Just get him angry. Maybe you should threaten him,” she muses.

“So I leave him in a furious rage at me. Maybe I should opt for a fight. Tell him that I know it’s him who’s been torturing me and Harry with the notes. Demand we meet up,” Louis says. Lottie shifts on the bench, tucks a leg under her.

“Exactly. So that way, he can meet you on your terms. Tell him to meet you near Admin, in the tunnel. Take him back to the scene of the crime. That’s where we’ll all be waiting and watching,” Lottie says, glancing at him. Louis exhales slowly, turning over the plans in his mind. He has to wheedle a confession out of Nathan, someone he hardly knows, someone who very much wants to kill him and Harry. He doesn’t want to let anyone down.

“So I’ll be wired up then, yeah? Get him talking, get him to admit it, and then what? You lot just jump out and surprise us? What if he runs?” Louis asks.

“I run fast, Louis. Have you forgotten? Once we get all the evidence on tape, it won’t matter if he bolts, really. Can just take it to the police, let them do the rest of it,” she says like it’s so easy. Louis is itching for a cigarette. It’s the perfect type of night to take a few drags, blow out any of his stress and let it get caught in the stars. He’s got none on him so he settles for biting at his fingernails. Lottie bumps her shoulder against his.

“Knew you were nervous about this, too,” she whispers. Louis shrugs and gives her a pained smile.

“Just really don’t want something bad to happen. I want this murder business put to bed and I want to enjoy my senior year of school with Harry next to me. I’m just getting to know him. If Nathan kills me before I get a chance to really give him and I a fair shot, that’s fucked,” Louis says.

“You won’t be killed. Harry won’t allow it. I won’t allow it,” Lottie says. A comfortable silence settles on the two of them. Wellington is truly at its best when it’s late and no one else is out, in Louis’ opinion. The only noise around them is the wind rustling through the trees, the fountain gurgling further away. The idea of leaving this place after graduation is strange. He doesn’t want to think about that though, would much rather stay in this glorious bubble for the rest of his life.

Back home, there aren’t so many shades of colors in the trees. Autumn at Wellington is a dream, leaves of every hue of red, orange and yellow. There aren’t as many shitty diners or classrooms that look straight out of Hogwarts sometimes, or mountain air so fresh it makes his lungs feel cleaner. There aren’t boys with eyes the shade of moss and forest who bake when they’re worried and laugh too loud.

“What do you think I should wear on my date tomorrow?” Louis asks out of the blue. Lottie laughs at that, the sound loosening something tight in his chest. She looks him up and down, eyes his messy fringe and droopy workout clothes with clear disdain.

“Definitely not what you have on right now. Where are you taking him?” she asks.

“We’re doing a hike and picnic type thing. And then dinner later at that chocolate place,” Louis says, happy to have a change in the conversation.

“ _Oh_ , the chocolate place. You’ll have to tell me how it is. Some girls in my literature class go there every Friday to split milkshakes. They go on and on about how good it is,” Lottie says.

“They never invite you?” Louis asks sharply, eyebrow raised. He sees Lottie blush in the darkness.

“It’s fine that they don’t. I’m too independent. Anyway, it sounds like a solid date place,” she says.

“I’m looking forward to it. Harry loves baking, right? Thought it was a smart plan,” Louis says. At that, the wind picks up a little stronger. It’s getting cooler out at night and Louis can tell Lottie is starting to get cold. They leave the bench and head back to the underclassmen girls dorm. Before Lottie steps inside, she has one more bit of advice for Louis.

“Wear those nicer black skinnies you have,” Lottie says with a smirk. “Harry won’t be able to keep his eyes off you, which I can’t believe I’m admitting, but there it is.”

“Can do. What else?” he asks. The weather’s supposed to be on the cooler side for most of the day, cloudy with a very small chance of rain.

“Just put on one of your weird, oversized jumpers. Something chunky and warm. That’ll work,” Lottie says before she pulls the dormitory door open. “And one more thing, your hair. I’d say swoop it up a little.” Louis barks out a laugh.

“Swoop it up? Lottie, I swear one day last year you told me you wanted to be a stylist and now you’re just telling me to ‘swoop up’ my hair? What kind of direction is that?” he asks, fiddling with his copper strands. He has no idea what she means by swooping. Lottie just grins and shrugs her shoulders as she ducks into the dorm.

“You’ll figure it out. Night, brother,” she says before slamming the door in his face. Louis reckons he now has at least another nine hours to land on an appropriate, dashing hairstyle. It’s going to be a long night.


	8. Chapter 8

**H**

 

“We have to get baguettes. That’s like, the law of picnics,” Harry says, wielding a giant hunk of bread in his hands. Louis holds up another baguette and they engage in a sword fight right there in the bread aisle of the grocery store they’ve ducked into. There are a few dirty looks, mainly from some older ladies shopping, but it’s too much fun to stop. They’re easily the youngest in the store. No one’s asking any questions though about why two teenage boys are hanging out at the shop on a Friday that’s normally filled to the brim with classes and homework. Harry gets a good jab into Louis’ ribs before he twists away, almost spinning himself into a few crates of bananas set up.

“Harry, I call a truce. Can’t injure the bananas,” Louis says, laughing as he rights himself.

“Not the bananas. Would be a tragedy. If you bumped into them, I’d have to _peel_ you off the floor,” Harry says, gingerly placing one of the baguettes back where he found it.

“Is that a banana pun, Harold?” Louis asks, looking at Harry with a crinkle-eyed smile that Harry’s only just begun to attribute to major fondness.

“Potassium is very important, Lou. So are banana jokes. Always funny,” he responds. Grocery shopping with Louis feels delightfully domestic. Harry’s never been so entertained in a grocery store before. Back in Cheshire, he’d usually follow his mum around with a sullen look on his face while she debated the pros and cons between real artichokes versus canned. Gemma would be texting forever on her mobile and Harry would try to sneak away to salivate over the baked good section. Cakes, biscuits, pies, you name it.

Louis cradles one of the baguettes under his arm and grabs Harry’s hand to pull him off to the cheese section. It’s been a good day so far and Harry’s enjoying all the spontaneity. Louis arrived at his door quite early in the morning, looking like the fittest model he’d ever seen. He was dressed all comfortable and cute in a pair of shamefully tight black skinny jeans and a cream and black striped jumper. Harry felt significantly underdressed in his blue jeans and Rolling Stones t-shirt.

“You’re wearing your Vans, but your hair is stellar, so I can’t figure out if we’re going somewhere fancy,” Harry had said after he let Louis in. Louis just smirked at him, kissing him once quickly before he started rifling through his cupboard.

“We need to be prepared for some outdoor weather, on the chilly side, but also not look like total slobs. The jeans you’ve got on are great, and when I say great, I mean make your arse look _amazing_ —but I think you need something warmer,” Louis muttered as he tossed aside one of Harry’s favorite weekend shirts, patterned with tiny little hearts.

“What’s wrong with my shirt? Or that heart one, I love that one,” Harry said, pretending to whine about it.

“We’re going on a picnic, Curly. You have to look the part, just a bit,” Louis said as he presented him with a few jumper options (Harry chose one that’s light gray and reminded him of home). He decided to add a scarf to the ensemble.

“You look so very, typical boarding school prep right now,” Louis had said, smiling as he helped Harry wrap the scarf around his neck.

“Can I wear boots today, or is that going to be inappropriate footwear? Is our picnic in an area that’s treacherously rocky? I’m fragile,” Harry had said, holding up a pair of scuffed suede boots in one hand and a more normal pair of trainers in the other.

“If the boots are calling your name, babycakes, go for it,” Louis had said, impatiently bouncing around on his heels while Harry pulled on the shoes. From there, they’d hopped in Louis’ car undetected by any roving teachers or resident advisors, and the campus disappeared behind them in the rear view. Now they’re wandering the store, Harry arguing with Louis over the perfect type of cheese to pair with the baguette and sliced salami they’ve already thrown into their shopping trolley.

“Brie’s best. It’s creamy and smooth and it’ll pair really nicely with the salt of the salami,” Harry says, holding up a giant wedge of brie for inspection.

“Since when are you a cheese expert?” Louis asks, swiping it out of his hands and throwing it into their trolley. “I mean, I know you’re often cheesy in general, but you sound so cultured.” Harry grins at Louis as they weave in and out of more aisles. He steals a few long glances at Louis while he reaches for grapes, while he snags a 6 pack of sparkling water, loves watching the way he moves. His hair looks different today. Harry can’t figure out what he’s done to it, truly. It’s swept up high on his forehead, looking artfully styled.

“Lou, can I ask you a question?” Harry asks as they stand in the checkout line with all their goodies.

“Shoot, love,” Louis responds, whacking Harry’s hand out of the way when he offers to pay for the groceries they’ve rustled up.

“My first point of order is: what have you done to your hair because it’s amazing? It’s essentially defying gravity,” Harry says, touching it with the tips of his fingers. Louis goes red at that as he swipes a credit card that looks to have his father’s name on it.

“Does it look alright? Took me ages last night,” Louis says with a duck of his head. Harry wants to kiss him so badly, to smooth away the worried look that’s appeared on his face. The fact that Louis would spend hours getting his hair ready for today is the most endearing thing.

“It’s great. You look like you walked out of some hipster catalog. I love it. And my next question, by the way,” Harry says, running to the end of the self-checkout line to bag up their purchases, “is should we have gotten desserts? Nothing says picnic date like some nice pie.” Louis laughs at that, throws his head back and comes over to where Harry is bagging.

“No need, Harold. All in due time, the date will be revealed,” Louis says. They get the groceries out to the car and it’s already gone a bit cloudy outside. It’s late morning and Louis has yet to tell Harry where exactly they’re going with their picnic. He’s taken a mental note that there’s a large throw blanket in the backseat, plus an actual picnic basket to hold all the food. God only knows where Louis found it on such short notice. They drive in a comfortable silence, the town blurring by and giving way to more open space. More trees, more hues of orange and red leaves rapidly turning as autumn approaches, more craggy clouds and filtered sunshine. Louis maneuvers the car into a gravel car park after thirty minutes. There are no signs marking the spot, nothing to hint that this is anything but an emergency pullover stop in the middle of the woods. Harry looks over at Louis and narrows his eyes at him.

“Is this the part where you kill me? Is Nathan hiding somewhere nearby, are you giving him a go at me first?” Harry asks, only half-joking.

“Please. As if I’d kickstart all the danger a whole day early. Time to get out of the car,” Louis says with a wink. Harry stares out at the empty road and the endless forest around them. If this is what Louis wants, he’ll do it. But he wishes he’d just stuck to wearing trainers and not his boots. Louis tosses the blanket at Harry who catches it just in time. The gravel is damp underneath their feet, the air is heavy with rain on the way. Louis hoists the basket up on his shoulder and Harry gives out a low whistle, wiggling his eyebrows at Louis.

“So strong, so rugged,” he starts, loving watching Louis grow more embarrassed.

“Shut it, you,” Louis says, moving quickly to tap him in the balls. Harry dances out of the way in the nick of time, yells even louder to the trees, “Louis Tomlinson is the manliest man to ever man. Look at my boyfriend everybody! Lifting this basket all by himself with his tiny hands!” Louis throws the basket to the ground and rips the blanket out of Harry’s hands in a matter of seconds, shoves Harry against the car and slots up right against him.

“My tiny hands can hold you in place against this car. How’s that make you feel?” Louis asks.

“Feels good, Lou,” Harry says, breathless. Harry feels like the air’s been knocked out of him and then Louis crashes his lips against Harry’s in a kiss that manages to steal a little more air out of his lungs. Harry responds in kind, grasping at Louis’ hips, needing him closer already.

“Been waiting to do this since yesterday. This’ll teach you to shut up,” Louis murmurs against his lips before tangling his hands in Harry’s hair.

“What took you so long then? Could’ve had me anytime. I know I run my mouth too much,” Harry says, gasping. He can feel the heat building between them despite the chill in the air. His back digs into the side of the car but he can’t even register the pain. It’s just Louis, so much Louis on his mouth, on his skin, biting his lip and sucking on it. A moan flutters in the back of his throat and Louis pulls away for a moment, disorienting him further.

“What you did to me yesterday, touching yourself while I could hear. Drove me fucking crazy,” Louis says with a growl, crowding in against Harry again. They kiss endlessly and not one car drives by. The woods gather around, swearing to never tell their secrets. Louis’ soft little sighs get absorbed into the pine needles, Harry’s hitch of breath rustles through the turning leaves. They move together, less tentative than before, hip bones colliding and hands grabbing and faces flushed from the cold.

“I just didn’t want you thinking I didn’t want you, Louis,” Harry whispers in a hushed tone as he pulls back from Louis and cups his jaw, tracing it with his thumb. “I can’t fathom tomorrow going wrong for you when things are starting to go a little right for us.”

“Tomorrow is going to be fine, Harry. I promise,” Louis whispers back, looping his fingers in Harry’s belt loops and tugging just a little. He presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead and finally lets him go. He lifts the picnic basket again like they never had a steamy make-out session and Harry grabs the blanket, happy to warm himself again now that Louis is no longer touching him.

“Shall we get back to our regularly scheduled date, now, Harry? I’m all for snogging the daylights out of you against the car but it’s getting a little nippy out and this picnic isn’t going to eat itself,” Louis quips, walking directly into the woods. Harry gapes after him, his lips still aching, but he runs to catch up. Louis hops onto a trail that Harry hadn’t noticed before.

“So we’re really hiking then? On an actual trail. God, Louis, I should’ve worn the other shoes. Why’d you let me wear these?” Harry asks as he trips over a wayward tree root. The forest around them blocks out most of the sparse sunlight, sinking their walk into deep shadows. He clutches the blanket against his body and tries not to shiver as he follows Louis. Louis seems accustomed to the cold, doesn’t seem to mind that some of the trail is slick with a bit of mud. He prances around and tells Harry stories of life back in Doncaster as they walk. When he talks about his sisters, his voice crackles with joy. They seem to be moving uphill. Harry loves the crunching sound their feet make when they step over a few bright leaves.

“Keep up, Styles. Those fancy boots of yours are almost done walking. We’re nearly there,” Louis says, glancing behind and shooting Harry a look so lovely it warms him instantly. Harry glances around at their surroundings, still all trees and shades of autumn with no end in sight.

“You sure you know where we’re off to?” he asks as Louis plods along ahead.

“100%. You know, Harry, I’ve got a good sense of direction. I’ve toyed with the idea of getting a compass tattooed on me once I head to uni,” Louis says.

“Where would you want it?” Harry asks as they continue to climb. He doesn’t like to think of Louis leaving. University seems so far away for him, but for Louis, it could happen in just another short year. Harry isn’t sure what to do about this thought. He hasn’t really stopped to consider it. Everything with Louis has been a little quicker than usual, spurred on by the murder and circumstance and pure want. Harry wishes he could keep him forever, tucked against him in a pocket somewhere safe. He doesn’t want the whole world to have Louis Tomlinson, he’d like to claim him for himself always.

“Think my forearm. Would be nice to always know where home is,” Louis says, grabbing one of Harry’s hands at that and tugging him closer.

“So you’ll be off to college then, will forget all about me. Most college boys don’t show up with high school boyfriends they met at a crime scene,” Harry says, helpless to stop himself. He hates how his voice sounds. The words come tumbling out. It isn’t fair and it’d make sense for Louis to stop them from becoming too serious before he leaves. He feels like they’ve only just begun and already, there’s probably an expiration date. Louis stops on the trail suddenly, causing Harry to stumble a few steps ahead of him, their hands drifting apart. Louis steps closer to him, hitching the basket up on his shoulder, before running his hands down Harry’s arms.

“College boys are allowed to have high school boyfriends, Harry. Maybe most people don’t do that,” Louis says with a smile. He takes a step back for a second, looking to mull something over. “I’m not most people,” he says, nuzzling his face into Harry’s neck. “We’re not most couples, are we?” Harry sighs and takes Louis’ hand, entwining their fingers.

“I hope not,” Harry whispers. Louis holds his hand as they begin their walk again, a smile surfacing on his face as they approach a break in the heavy forest that makes way to a large clearing.

“The tattoo, by the way,” Harry says, bumping his hip against Louis’, “it sounds perfect.” He’s never considered a tattoo himself before, but knowing Louis would be willing to get something so personal makes him like him even more. Louis gives his hand a little squeeze.

They stand in a natural clearing in the woods, grass and overgrowth jutting up against a cliff top overlook. The view is spectacular. Harry drops Louis’ hand and places the blanket down, wanting to get a better look. Louis joins him close to the edge, stands next to him silently while Harry stares in wonder. He feels like he can see for miles. The sloping mountains of the Berkshires that are so well-hidden on campus have shifted into brilliant focus out here. Harry gets a little dizzy so close to the edge of the drop off point. He takes a few steps back and inches his arm around Louis’ waist, pulling him close.

“Where’d you find this place? It’s magic,” Harry whispers, keeping his voice low. All around them are the sounds of nature, birds chirping and the rush of water somewhere farther beyond. The clouds are low in the sky, casting everything in sharp shadow and contrast. He feels Louis shrug against him.

“I’ve got to keep some things secret, Harry. A magician never reveals all his tricks in one go,” Louis says, pulling Harry in for a gentle kiss.

“Do you reckon it’ll rain soon?” Harry asks after they pull away and start setting up their picnic area. Louis shakes out the blanket and Harry starts digging in the picnic basket to assemble all their goodies. He takes a seat next to Louis, crosses his long legs and takes in a deep breath of the mountain air.

“A little rain won’t hurt us. Pass me the salami, Curly, and yes I _do_ mean that in the dirtiest way possible,” Louis says with a grin.

 

**L**

 

The host of The Chocolate Fable looks them up and down, skepticism written all over his face. Louis tries to stand up a little straighter, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry trying to fix his hair. He knows how they look. He can guess why this bloke, with the most ridiculous mustache he’s ever seen, would hesitate upon seating them.

A few small puddles have formed at their feet. Louis’ jumper has chilled him to the bone. He’s a sopping mess. They both are. They’d gotten so caught up talking at the picnic site that the little raindrops that began to fall intermittently had hardly bothered them. Of course, once the food ran out and the conversation had made way to a comfortable little snooze on the blanket, that’s when their problems began. There’s nothing like a torrential downpour to kill the mood, or your nap.

Harry and Louis had been wrapped in each other’s arms, lulled into an easy sleep that stretched for an hour or two. Waking up to cracks of lightning and a steady stream of rain was jarring, to say the least.

“Shit. You grab the basket, I’ve got the blanket. We’ve got to get out of here,” Louis had yelled, scrambling to his feet. Harry had been sliding all over the place in his horrifically inappropriate shoes. Bless his heart and his suede boots. They ran as quickly as they could down the trail, laughing until their sides hurt. Mud was splattering everywhere.

“This goes down,” Harry had yelled as they both leapt over a few tree roots, “as the most interesting date I’ve ever been on. Also the messiest.” Louis was gasping then, trying to gauge where sneaky puddles would be lurking.

“I swear I planned this, every bit of it. Down to the rain. Didn’t want this to be a date you’d forget,” Louis yelled back, trying to use the blanket as a bit of an umbrella. It was already wet though, so the effect was pretty abysmal. Harry and Louis made it to the car intact, but were drenched by the time they hopped in.

“Heat, heat, heat,” Harry murmured, his teeth chattering. Louis cranked up the heat, hoping the warm air would soon blast them both. Louis looked over at Harry and took in his unruly hair flattened against his head.

“Oh, look at you,” he said softly, brushing a few wet locks of hair away from Harry’s face. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch. Louis sniffled a little, the rain and cool air getting to him.

“What’s next on the agenda?” Harry had asked, grabbing the bottom of Louis’ jumper and wringing it out a bit. Louis wasn’t sure how trying to get into The Chocolate Fable would go in the state they were in, but here they are, trying anyway.

“We’ve got a reservation,” Louis says tentatively to the host. Other patrons are enjoying quiet dinners, and the faint smell of chocolate permeates the air. Harry’s drifted off to the glass case of desserts to the side of the host’s stand. Louis watches him, loving how his face lights up just by seeing a particularly lovely cake.

“I see you here, Mr. Tomlinson, but we do require our patrons to be… how do I say this… not so soggy,” the host replies, twirling his god-awful mustache. Louis wanted today to be perfect and can feel himself getting irrationally angry at this twat for ruining what could’ve been a lovely day.

“Listen, pal, we may look a little worse for wear but I’ve got a credit card and I am ready to pay. What’ll it take to get us a table?” Louis asks, struggling to get his damp wallet out of his skinny jeans. He curses Lottie in his head for suggesting these trousers today. They’re practically painted on him right now. He feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and someone dripping more water on him.

“Know what? We’ll just take some desserts for takeaway,” Harry says, his voice soothing in Louis’ ears. Louis relaxes against him, feels the firmness of his chest against his back. He leans his head back and eyes Harry, in all his soaking glory.

“You’re sure? I had this fancy dinner planned. Really wanted to impress you, Harry,” Louis murmurs.

“Already impressed, Lou. Besides, have you seen what they’ve got over there? Puts Juliana to shame,” Harry whispers. Louis sneaks a kiss to Harry’s cheek and eyes up the host, who looks more than a little uncomfortable.

“Dessert checkout is over to my right. You’re welcome to purchase and leave before you cause any kind of wet floor hazard,” the host says, waving them over to the glass case.

“Well fuck you very much, sir. It’s truly been a pleasure,” Harry says with a little bow and a smirk before whisking Louis over to look at the desserts. The look of shock on the man’s face is enough to send Louis into a fit of laughter. He wraps both of his arms around Harry while they study the case, so proud to be his boyfriend. He’s always surprising him with his unexpected cheekiness.

“Where did that come from?” Louis asks, staring up at Harry who’s looking quite pleased with himself. He just laughs and starts pointing to all the various treats in front of them, rambling at Louis about the details behind each creation. In the end, they settle on a large slab of Tuxedo Cake to share plus two decadent vanilla bean cupcakes with chocolate shavings sprinkled on top. Harry offers to pay this time, despite Louis’ protests, and they dash out into the rain with their spoils and make it into the car without getting too wet.

“What a total dickhead,” Harry exclaims as they make the drive back to campus. “I can’t fucking believe he wouldn’t seat us. I’m really sorry Louis, I bet their food wasn’t even that great.” Louis squeezes Harry’s thigh as he rounds a sharper bend. Keeping his eyes on the road is more difficult with Harry sitting next to him. It was already strange enough having to adjust to driving on the other side of the road when he got this car for school.

“He treated us like second-class citizens. It’s bullshit, really. But hey, we’ve got our desserts, yeah? At least that’s something,” Louis says, smiling at Harry. Harry smiles back, his little dimple showing itself in the dim light. It’s gotten a little late, dusk already fallen as they pull back into Wellington. Campus, usually lit up at night, is noticeably more dark than usual.

“That’s weird,” Louis says as he parks at his dorm. “Wonder if the power went down just for the streetlamps. That storm was pretty wicked.” They grab their to-go bag, opting to leave the picnic stuff in the car, and traipse into the international dorm.

“I see the power issue wasn’t just for campus proper, then,” Harry says as they step into the dark foyer area.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Louis says under his breath. There are a few flashlight beams scattering around as they carefully make their way up the stairs. Louis’ heart nearly explodes with gratitude when he sees a mess of candles and a spare lighter sitting outside his door with a note from Liam attached.

 

**_Power’s out. Total bullshit. On patrol duty for the next 3 hours. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. Or maybe, do the opposite. Have a good night. Liam._ **

 

“At least it’s not a note from Nathan,” Harry says good-naturedly as he picks up a few candles and balances them in his one hand. Louis wiggles his key into the lock and carries in the other candles and the lighter. His room is pitch black and he nearly trips over the spare pairs of shoes he’d been deciding on this morning. Harry takes the lighter from him and begins lighting the candles. He places them strategically around the room and soon they’re lit in a cozy, dusky glow. Harry looks extraordinary by candlelight. Louis wishes he’d bought them drinks. They finished the sparkling water back at the picnic, which resulted in both of them having to dash off to take separate pisses in the woods. His mouth is dry now and he realizes this is the first time him and Harry have been properly alone, next to a bed, as official boyfriends.

“Can’t wait to taste you,” Harry says while Louis is bent over trying to yank off his soaked Vans. He straightens up and turns back around to give Harry his best sassy look, a little pleased that Harry’s gaze has been lingering on his bum.

“Excuse me?” he asks. Harry looks the picture of innocence. He holds up the box of cupcakes with a creepy smile.

“I meant the desserts. Dirty mind,” Harry says with a snicker, flipping the top open and glancing inside. Louis blushes and is thankful for the dim lighting. His heart is flopping around in his chest. Harry places their dessert box on the desk and then stands in the middle of the room with a shyness Louis’ hasn’t seen since the night they met. He’s messing with his hands, picking at his fingers and rubbing the edge of his jumper sleeve too much.

“My clothes are still really wet. S’alright if I just… take them off? It’s too cold keeping them on,” Harry says with a little shiver. Louis nods at him, tries not to stare so much as Harry peels off his jumper and steps out of his jeans. His shoes and socks land on the floor in a heap. Louis follows suit, yanking his jumper over his head, happy to be free of it. His skinnies are a little difficult but he manages without losing his pants underneath. They both stand there, hanging out in their pants, the fire flickering and lighting up the definition of Harry’s abs, his defined calves, his damp hair.

“Have I wined and dined you enough to get you out of your clothes then?” Louis asks, trying to keep his tone light. Harry grabs both cupcakes and places one in Louis’ hand before giving him a lazy, wet kiss.

“You’ve done more than enough. Cheers,” Harry says, standing closer than he needs to as he clinks his cupcake with Louis’. Louis takes a bite of his cupcake and never lets his eyes leave Harry’s. Harry gets frosting all over his chin and Louis feels some of the sweet vanilla cream on the side of his mouth. The cupcake is divine and they both demolish theirs in seconds. Harry gives him a strange look before he darts towards him and licks off some of the icing near his mouth.

“Oh, we’re doing _this_ now,” Louis says, pouncing on Harry and tackling him to the bed to get him back. He holds him down, despite Harry’s manic laughter, while he slowly mouths over some of the icing on his chin.

“Delicious,” Louis whispers as he licks his lips, acutely aware of how close their bodies are. Harry’s laughter dies down and he stares up at Louis with a question in his eyes. Louis’ hair is still a little wet from earlier and Harry shoves it back.

“My hair’s ruined. I worked so hard,” he says to Harry. He can hear the rain still falling outside but it’s like the rest of the world has dimmed. The storm is still swirling but they’re safe here, holed up together. Harry places his hands on Louis’ hips, his fingertips lightly tracing the waistband of his briefs. Louis gets goosebumps at the touch.

“Today was perfect,” Harry says in his low voice. Louis feels drunk, like someone’s slipped him something strong while he wasn’t paying attention. He brushes his lips against Harry’s, just once, before pulling back.

“I want to take you out again. I want us to explore every inch of the city, every inch of each other. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m a little glad the murder happened,” Louis says as he balances himself on his elbows. Harry shifts below him and Louis could cry out from the way it feels, their hips nearly slotted together.

“I need you to be safe tomorrow. I like you too much for you to die,” Harry says with a lopsided grin. Louis notices that Harry’s got shaky hands as he touches him. Nerves.

“You alright, babe?” he asks, leaning down to kiss Harry again. Harry kisses him back, slow. They take their time. Harry nods against him and they meet at the mouth. Louis dares to press down more of his bodyweight, wants to feel Harry solid against him. Their movements are instinctive. Louis honestly doesn’t know how it happens but after a while, the kissing grows more passionate, the temperature in the room changes, Harry’s hands hot on his back and pulling him closer. They both have kisses and love bites riddled all over their bodies, Harry responding beautifully every time he touches him. Louis can feel his erection straining, knows Harry has one too. It’s getting to be too much.

“Harry,” Louis says, a small gasp emitting from his throat as Harry presses a kiss on his collarbone. “Do you think I could…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Back in the library it was so easy, he was so caught up. Tonight it’s slower, more purposeful, less out of control. Louis lets his hands do the talking, cupping the bulge in Harry’s briefs and rubbing his hand up and down, feeling a bit of wetness pooling unrelated to the rain.

“Are you trying to ask if you can go down on me?” Harry asks in a strained voice, flicking the damp curls out of his eyes. His chest heaves up and down. Louis thumbs at his waistband, his fingers dancing over the dusting of hair under his belly button.

“I’d like to. If you want. Fair warning, never done this before so don’t hold it against me if I’m shit at it,” Louis says, trying to cover his bases. Harry bucks his hips up, grinding against Louis.

“You can’t be shit at it. You’re not shit at anything. I’m willing to have you give it a go,” Harry says, kissing Louis deeply on the mouth, his tongue sliding in and tasting of buttercream. Louis tries to calm his nerves as he slowly tugs down Harry’s briefs. His cock is ready, flushed and heavy. Louis is nearly speechless, glad he isn’t going to have to talk for the next few minutes. He’s never done this before, not ever. But he thinks about what he’d want, what might make himself feel good, and sets about making Harry feel even better.

Harry’s eyes go dark as Louis lowers himself down and takes him in his mouth. Louis licks tentatively at first, getting used to the feel of him. He presses his hands into Harry’s hips, holding him in place. His muscles ache from keeping himself upright but he keeps on. The little noises Harry’s making are driving him wild. As he works his mouth down Harry’s shaft, Harry’s body tenses little by little.

“Amazing. You’re amazing. You have to let me do this to you after, my god,” Harry moans, stretching his body out as Louis continues. Louis loves the sound of that, starts using his hand to get a firm grip on Harry’s dick while he continues to take him in his mouth.

“Can’t get over how good you taste. Sorry if I've got too much teeth. Trying to keep that to a minimum,” Louis mutters, licking a long stripe from his balls up to the head. He’s got Harry’s hands in his hair now, pressing him down to keep him in place. Louis wants to bring him to the edge, needs him to get there. Harry is panting, muttering about how close he is. Louis keeps at it, trailing kisses across his thighs before mouthing over his dick again. Louis’ own dick is excruciatingly hard. The thought of Harry’s hot mouth anywhere near it already has him close to orgasm already. Louis works at Harry a little longer, pulling noises out of Harry he never knew could exist. When he finally cums, Harry gives him a bit of warning before he feels the warm liquid in his mouth. He swallows automatically, not because he needs to but because he doesn't know what else to do. Harry pulls him in for a kiss, seemingly not caring that he might taste himself on Louis’ lips.

“That was fucking brilliant,” Harry says between kisses. Louis wants to kiss him so hard he forgets who he is. Harry pulls back with a flushed face and maneuvers Louis like a rag doll, flips him on his back so quickly he doesn’t have time to react. In seconds, Harry’s got his briefs down around his ankles and his mouth on him before Louis can tell him to get there. He has no time to be shy, no time to be embarrassed about how he might look. Louis knows he won’t last long. Harry licks at him enthusiastically, making affirming noises every time Louis sighs or gasps a certain way. He pulls back for a minute to wipe his mouth, shooting a smarmy grin at Louis.

“Hope you’re not too full, Lou. We’ve still got cake,” Harry says before diving back in. Louis just might die. He’s filthy, absolutely filthy. Within minutes, Louis is begging Harry to finish him off. He can’t breathe, can’t think, all he can do is feel. When he gets off, Harry swallows him whole without a second thought. They collapse against each other, shaky and strung out. Louis feels sticky, knows they need to clean up but the candles are so relaxing, his body feels so loose.

“Was it good for you?” Harry asks, propping himself up on his chin and stroking Louis’ side as he holds him. Louis smiles, watches Harry’s eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

“More than. What a way to go. If this is my last night, I can die a happy man,” Louis says. Harry frowns at that, pushes off the bed and goes to grab the cake.

“You’re not dying. Why’d you have to ruin the moment? We were having a nice little time spooning, and boom, back to reality,” Harry says, rummaging in the takeaway bag for forks. Louis isn’t sure if he’s being serious. Louis takes one moment, just one, to appreciate the fact that he’s got a naked Harry in his dorm room. It’s not every day something like this happens. Only in his wildest fantasies did he expect this. He studies his long limbs, the tiny little love handles on his hips, the curve of his arse. He could look all night.

Harry smiles as he grabs the cake and Louis relaxes. He sits back on the bed and Louis sits up, taking a fork from him. He thinks back to the last time they did this, shared a dessert in a dorm room. Louis had thought Harry was breaking into his room. That was right when the notes started, when they’d never even kissed yet. Amazing how things can change. They both take a few bites of the cake, groaning over how good it is.

“The waitstaff there were still horrendous. We should never go there again,” Louis remarks, savoring the layers of chocolate in his mouth. When they eventually finish the cake and crawl into bed, Louis is pleased to be the big spoon for Harry. He snuggles up against him, Harry’s bum squashed against his dick. Harry’s got a pair of Louis’ pajamas on. They’re much too small for him but he claimed they were comfortable. They both fall asleep after the candles are out, Louis holding onto Harry knowing there’s nowhere else he’d ever belong.


	9. Chapter 9

**H**

 

Harry’s bed is usually too small, even just for him. With Louis here pressed against him, crowding in on his space, he knows he’s going to feel his muscles protesting the second he tries to get out of bed. He wouldn’t trade where he’s waking up though. Louis makes a soft little snore in his ear and tugs him closer. His hands are wrapped around his stomach and Harry just studies them, commits this image to memory. He could lose himself here if he’s not too careful. Louis presses a light kiss to his shoulder blade and Harry shifts to lie on his back. Louis has sleepy eyes, his hair sticking every which way, and Harry wants to hold onto this forever. He wants loose limbs and morning breath and the feeling of total bliss you get being wrapped up in someone else’s arms.

“Morning sunshine,” Louis whispers, his voice croaky. If Harry listens close, he can hear the sounds of the rest of the dorm waking up around them. They don’t have much more time to be suspended here in the warmth and privacy. Harry is so close he can see the bit of facial scruff threatening to grow on Louis’ cheeks. He grins at him and kisses Louis hard. Morning time seems right for soft kisses and gentle hands, but Harry’s never been so good at always doing what’s expected.

“Good morning,” Harry whispers back. He stretches in the bed, his foot bumping into Louis’ desk and knocking over one of Louis’ many football trophies he’s collected.

“Easy there, killer,” Louis says, propping himself up in bed. Harry sits up too, cringing at the sound of the crash.

“No killer jokes today, please,” Harry says. He runs his hands through his hair, certain he looks like a wild animal at the moment. Louis’ small pajamas ride up on his body as he moves. Harry climbs over Louis and starts pulling off the shirt and joggers he borrowed. Louis stays in bed and watches him lazily. Harry’s clothes from the night before are now only mildly damp. When he tugs them on, he winces at the cold.

“Last night was… something,” Louis says from bed. He’s kicking off the covers too, rolling out of bed and heading right for his cupboard.

“A good something or a bad something?” Harry asks. He takes a seat at Louis’ desk and watches him picking out clothes for the day.

“A great something, Harry. Which I am more than willing to repeat any time you want me to,” Louis says, winking at Harry while he digs in his cupboard. He pulls out joggers and a workout shirt. Winter League tryouts are coming up in just an hour or two. Harry’s stomach does an uncomfortable lurch, the desserts and picnic lunch from yesterday threatening to make a reappearance. He should feel happy but all he can focus on are Louis’ tasks for the rest of the day. By nightfall, he’ll be hiding out in some shrubbery again, keeping an eye on Louis as he goes face-to-face with the worst person at this school.

“Are you nervous for today?” Harry asks. Louis steps into his joggers one leg at a time, tying the waistband before answering.

“It is what it is, I guess. I’ll have all of you there to cheer me on. If we can just nail him today, I’ll be able to calm down,” Louis says. Harry notices the way Louis’ fingers tremble, just slightly, while he pulls on his football cleats.

“I’m nervous,” Harry offers, knowing he’s being supremely unhelpful. Louis walks over to him and cups his face in his hands.

“We’ll get through it together. Want breakfast?” Louis asks. Louis pulls on a beanie, which makes him look extra cute, in Harry’s opinion. Harry follows him in a bit of a trance as they leave the small bubble of his dorm room. When they open the door, all the noise and commotion that is Wellington on the weekend greets them in full force. Some of Louis’ more boisterous neighbors are already playing video games, loudly, in someone’s room. Harry takes Louis’ hand as they emerge into the hallway. It’s such a difference from their quiet, rainy night before. Liam is approaching from down the hall, a skateboard tucked under his arm. When he sees them he freezes and looks to be mentally calculating how he can make a quick exit.

“What the hell is this, Payno? Thought you were out patrolling for three hours last night,” Louis says, swiping the board from his hands. Louis whirls around to face Harry, a look of pure glee on his face.

“This is Zayn’s bloody skateboard. I was looking at it in his room. What are you doing with it?” Louis asks. Liam snatches it back from him and begins to open his mouth, but Harry can’t help but cut in.

“Thanks for the candles, Liam, by the way. You were a lifesaver last night,” Harry says. Liam glows at that, spins one of the little wheels with his finger.

“You’re very welcome, Harry. See Louis, some people can be polite and decidedly not nosy. You don’t fall into that category. You two have a good night?” Liam asks with a cheesy little wink he directs at Louis.

“Don’t change the subject. We’re going to breakfast, _you’re_ coming with,” Louis says, linking his arm through Liam’s and pulling him down the hallway.

“I don’t appreciate our romantic breakfast being ruined,” Harry says in monotone as he follows them with a little smile on his face. “Liam, our date was supposed to last for 24 hours and now you’re just third-wheeling, man.” Liam makes a few squawks of protest. They march to the dining hall and take over one of the round tables.

“You’ve got your footie stuff on for tryouts so I assume you slept at your own dorm last night. You have to tell us, Liam. Harry drinks up gossip like tea,” Louis says, drumming his fingertips on the table.

“Deductive reasoning there, Louis. You’re a regular Sherlock,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. Harry shifts back from his seat, eyeing the breakfast buffet. The intoxicating smell of eggs benedict is wafting through the hall and he’s not the type to abstain from a good breakfast.

“I’m getting eggs. Liam, don’t tell him any secrets until I get back. You two want anything?” Harry asks.

“Coco Pops for me, thanks,” Louis says before he gets back to hounding Liam. Harry sneaks a kiss to Louis’ cheek before ambling over to the breakfast buffet. He grabs a tray and loads it up with eggs benedict and a bowl of fruit for himself, and cereal for Louis. Juliana waves at him as she keeps an eye on the oatmeal station.

“Juliana, I’ve got a new dessert I want to try,” Harry says, stopping the line to talk to her. Other students file by, grumbling at the interruption.

“You haven’t been to the kitchens in a while. Has everything been okay?” she asks.

“Just busy. There’s this cake I want to try to make. Have you ever been to The Chocolate Fable?” he asks. Juliana’s eyes light up at that.

“They’re at the top of their game. I know the pastry chef who works there, Gabriel, he’s kind of a genius. The rest of the staff, on the other hand, can be a little on the rude side,” she says with a smile. Harry’s aware that Louis’ cereal is probably getting soggy but it’s nice having a little conversation.

“Tell me about it. Me and Louis—do you know him? He’s my boyfriend, he’s great, he planned this whole date yesterday— we went there and they wouldn’t even seat us. Said we were too wet from the rain,” Harry says, feeling a bit like he’s speaking in one long run-on sentence. Juliana gasps at that, frowning like he’s just told her someone stole her dog or something.

“Despicable. Did you at least get to try some of the desserts? And I know Louis, everyone knows Louis. Little menace. You two make a very cute couple,” she says. Harry grins and decides to help himself to some oatmeal since he’s over here. Juliana is the nicest.

“I fell in love with the tuxedo cake,” Harry says, a little breathless. “It was excruciatingly perfect. I want to try to recreate it soon.”

“Just let me know when. I’ll see if I can rustle up some ingredients, maybe talk to the pastry chef there about some kind of job for you next semester if you’re interested,” she says. Harry straightens up at that. He’d never considered learning how to bake professionally. If he can get over The Chocolate Fable’s snobby attitude, it might be the perfect place to really learn.

“I wasn’t on my best behavior yesterday. I may have been a little rude back to them. Doubt they’d hire me,” Harry says, a prickle of embarrassment making itself known.

“I’m sure it’s all been forgotten already. You’re really talented, Harry. Why not pursue it? Even just as a hobby?” Juliana asks. Harry shrugs, weighs the option.

“Alright. Throw my name in, see what happens. Got to get back to my table now. Thanks Juliana. Seriously,” Harry says, waving at her and wandering over to the checkout. He’s just swiped his student ID card, feeling very pleased with himself, when he hears a few snickers behind him.

“Guess we were right all along about Styles,” a girl says. Harry’s ears burn but he forces himself to focus on paying for his breakfast.

“Did you see he brought his boyfriend with him to breakfast? Who’s the other guy?” a gruff voice asks.

“Probably someone they’re trying to convince to have a three-way. That Snapchat made me want to barf,” another girl says. Harry isn’t prone to violence. He doesn’t often fly into a rage, or even raise his voice. He should’ve known there’d be people having a problem with him and Louis, together. It was too easy. His hands shake as he pays for his meal. He places his tray down, carefully, on a table nearby and walks up to the group of classmates who’ve been talking about him. It’s the crew from art history, of course. They look at him like they’re waiting for him to dissolve into tears or leave school altogether. They don’t take him seriously, never really have. He recalls the afternoon he spent crying in that cupboard and doesn’t want to be that person ever again.

“Got something to say about me?” he asks, telling himself that he needs to keep his voice even and not stutter. One of the girls smirks at him in his seat.

“Always knew you were into guys, Fairy Harry. How’d you bag the captain of the soccer team? Guess everyone in the locker room is gonna have to watch their backs now,” she says to him before laughing with her friends. Harry can hear a faint ringing in his ears. One of the other guys stands up, gets a little too close to him for comfort. He’s the one who usually leads the peanut gallery into hysterics anytime Harry falters in class.

“What was wrong with me, Harry?” he asks, all wolf teeth and stinking of Axe body spray. “Don’t you think I’m pretty enough? God, you’re such a fucking fa—” Harry doesn’t let him finish the rest of his sentence because he’s too busy reeling back and punching him straight in the nose. Everything’s red. Blood spurts down the front of this kid’s shirt and Harry almost wants to apologize immediately, but won’t. That gets everyone’s attention in the dining hall. He sees Louis out of the corner of his eye, with Liam close behind as they rush towards him. His classmate is clutching his nose and howling. Harry’s hand hurts but all he does is laugh a little.

“Babe, what just happened?” Louis asks when he reaches him.

“Just defending your honor. Our honor. Yours too, Liam. It really shouldn’t matter if any of us are straight or gay or bi or anything else. All of you can piss off,” Harry says curtly, leaving the group of classmates and everyone else in the dining hall before they can stop him. He sees Juliana do a little fist pump as him, Liam and Louis stalk out of the hall.

“I’ve got to say, I wish I had my Coco Pops but seeing you punch someone is worth missing out. Harry, that was _hot_ ,” Louis says, enthusiasm running rampant in his voice.

“Harry, what were they saying about me? Is this because of… well I told Louis already, but is it the Zayn thing?” Liam asks. Harry doesn’t have the heart to tell him any word of what they all said.

“Zayn has nothing to do with it, mate. But now I’m intrigued. Also, seriously, we may need to stop at the health center. My hand’s killing me,” Harry says, shaking out his throbbing hand. Louis inspects his knuckles as they start heading in the general direction of the health center. He gives them a tiny kiss. Liam begins to launch into his story.

“We’re just hanging out and like… he tried to kiss me, okay? And at first I was like, bro, no. But he’s really nice to look at, you know? And now I’m having this existential crisis where I don’t know what to do and my headspace is all off and we’ve got footie tryouts in like, an hour, and I’ll probably fuck it all up. I’ve never been this confused. I’m not used to it,” Liam says, rambling at top speed.

“Did you want him to kiss you? Better question: are you into girls exclusively, Li? Cause if you aren’t, that’s totally okay,” Louis says. It’s a cold day and Harry wishes, again, that he’d packed anything warmer for his overnight excursion with Louis. He’s dying to get back to his own dorm room and surround himself with blankets for a little before they all have to go out again tonight.

“Well I dated Krista Garver for a few months. That was good. And I look at Zayn and I want to squish his face, it’s so pretty, and maybe I’d like kissing him, too. Don’t know how you two figured this out for yourselves,” Liam says, looking torn. The rest of their walk is spent listening to Liam ruminate about Zayn, and also complain about how hungry he is. The nurse on-duty at the health center wraps Harry’s hand with care and gives a stern warning about not getting into fights. News travels fast. Harry’s sure he’s managed to wrack up some detention from the headmaster for this, but he considers it worth it. Especially when Louis hugs him from behind and sneaks a few bagels from the health center lobby.

“Footie starts in a bit. Me and Liam are going to have to get going,” Louis murmurs. Liam’s having an animated chat with some other resident advisor he bumped into while trying to convince the nurse to give him some orange juice, and Harry feels another jolt of fear breaking into his thoughts. He wraps Louis up in his arms and pulls him close. The sound of Louis chewing on the bagel shouldn’t be so cute to his ears, but it is.

“So you know what you have to do, then?” he asks, making sure not to bump his knuckles anywhere against Louis’ back. Louis huffs against him and then leans back, looking at him with his ice blue eyes.

“I’m ready to take that fucker down,” he says with a little lopsided smile. When Harry kisses him once more before him and Liam take off, he makes it count. The rest of the night might be wildly unpredictable. He’s planning to meet up with Niall, Zayn and Lottie later to go over a few things and he needs everything to go off without a hitch. Harry glances over at Liam, stares at him as intensely as he can muster.

“You need to make sure he stays safe. Seriously, Liam. I need everyone to remain alive by the time this night is through,” Harry says. Liam nods, gives him a firm handshake and his word. When they both leave for the tryouts, stranding Harry in the middle of the health center in his freezing clothes with an aching hand, he mutters a little prayer. They’re going to need all the help they can get.

 

**L**

 

If Louis was ever unconvinced that all Nathan’s are the very worst, it’s now being proven true over and over again right now on the pitch. He has such a punchable face. Scowling, stalking around the pitch like it belongs to him. He’s been shooting daggers at Louis all afternoon. Nathan blows by him at least six times, shoving him before stealing the ball and looking cocky about it every single time he does it. Liam stands prone in the goalie net, a look of total devastation on his face every time he watches Louis lose control of the ball.

“Isn’t anyone going to flag this arsehole? Coach, are you fucking serious?” Louis yells through gritted teeth as he jogs by.

“Language, Tomlinson. Get faster, move faster. I made you captain for a reason, now go,” his coach yells back from the sideline. He’s sweating out every possible bit of liquid in his body despite the chill. Winter tryout has been in full-swing for a while now and there are a lot of lads who’ve come to play hard. The grass is wet underneath his feet. He’s having a bad time trying to stay upright. Louis shoves his hair out of his face. Nathan’s preening around, talking shit on everybody.

“Oi, Ario, think you’re better than everyone here?” Louis asks as he runs closer to him. Nathan’s bouncing backwards on his cleats, breathing hard. Louis is tempting fate by going after him directly. This is his goal though. He needs to rile him up just enough to get him mad.

“I know I’m better than everyone. _Especially_ you,” Nathan shoots back with a snarl. Nathan is fast, but sometimes, Louis is faster. He shifts by him in a blur and the ball is in his possession before Nathan even realizes what’s happened. He’s dribbling down the field, passing to another lad playing on his team this round. When they score, victory tastes sweeter than any of the baked goods Harry’s capable of making. His coach gives him an approving look and Liam does a little celebratory dance before getting back into position again. Louis places himself directly in front of Nathan before play begins again.

“You just can’t stay away from me, can you? Looking for a second boyfriend?” Nathan says in a low voice.

“Low life pond scum isn’t my type, Nathaniel. If I’m not mistaken, think you’re the one always after me. By the way, your handwriting is really impressive. Saw you on the sign-up sheet. Who taught you to write like that? It’s very feminine,” Louis says, taking in a deep breath before focusing on which way the ball goes. They’re off again, hustling down the field. Louis’ muscles are screaming. In a usual match, he never tries to go this hard but today is different. Today he has so many things to prove.

“Who the fuck cares about my writing? Know what I want to see happen at the end of this tryout?” Nathan says in short bursts as him and Louis go after the ball.  “You, hung out to dry. I want you off this team and six feet under.”

“Seems to be a pattern with you, you wanker. Just can’t stop that murderous rage. Your girlfriend must fucking love that,” Louis pants, sensing its time to get this bomb to go off sooner rather than later. Forget the locker room, it can end right now. Nathan seems to forget about the game for a second, barrelling straight at Louis instead of at the ball. Louis has about a split-second to understand what’s about to happen, and if it wasn’t all part of the plan, he’d be bounding off to duck and cover. Instead, he just smiles a little and keeps his eye on his coach who’s watching Nathan with wide eyes. When Louis’ back hits the muddy grass of the pitch, he’s almost thankful. Liam is running over and before Nathan wails on him, Louis holds up his middle finger straight up to Nathan’s face. Nathan gets a few solid punches in, even a knee to Louis’ ribs that has him gasping for air, before his coach and another guy pulls Nathan off him.

“This ain’t over, pal,” Louis yells as he spits a little blood out of his mouth. Nathan popped him in the jaw pretty good and it’s gonna form a hell of a bruise in the morning.

“Not even close. You’re fucking trash, Tomlinson,” Nathan says, his chest heaving as people try to hold him back. Louis stares, sees two of him. He shakes his head and the double forms of Nathan go back to one.

“Tonight. 11. Library tunnel. Can finish what we started,” Louis growls. Nathan narrows his eyes at him as he’s dragged away. Liam is standing over him, with a few of the other guys from the usual team.

“Guess the tryout’s over. Mission accomplished, Louis,” Liam says, holding a hand out to help pull Louis up to his feet. He’s a little dizzy, pretty achey, but he’s done what he can. At least the rest of the group will be happy to hear that. The crowd around them opens to let them get off the pitch.

“Think I’m gonna puke, maybe,” Louis mutters, a little dizzy on his feet. Coach is yelling about tryouts being suspended for the day and going on about player ethics. Louis can’t be bothered to listen. When Liam gets him back to the locker room, he’s wincing with every step. Louis sits down heavily, crying in pain from that swift kick to his ribcage.

“That guy is literally insane,” Louis says, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He’s got a bit of a headache and he can feel his lip swelling. His whole body feels like it's been through the ringer.

“It’s really brave of you, Louis, to take him on. If that’s how he is on the footie pitch though, I’m a little afraid of how he’ll be tonight,” Liam says, squeezing his shoulder.

“Tonight I’m not letting him get any punches in. I just need him to talk. He’s got such a gigantic ego, shouldn’t be too hard right?” Louis asks. He breathes in and out, trying to focus on the breaths expanding his lungs. The smallest flutter of nervous butterflies have landed in the pit of his stomach. He wants to brush them off and view tonight as no big deal, but he knows that’s not actually the case. Everything’s riding on tonight. If they can put Nathan away for good, he might sleep a little easier at night. Maybe Mariah’s family can get a little more peace instead of having to grapple with how their perfectly well-adjusted daughter could just commit suicide out of nowhere.

“Winter tryouts are going to be pushed back to next weekend, folks. Liam, take care of this guy will you?” the coach says as he makes his rounds around the room. “Need our captain in top form. Get some rest, Tomlinson. You look like hell.” Louis gives a weak nod. At that, him and Liam slink back to the dormitory. Louis lets Liam rustle around in his room looking for pajamas. He pulls them on, cringing the entire time. Liam’s worried stare never leaves him. When Louis gets a glance of himself on his wall mirror, he groans.

“Li, you could’ve told me I looked this bad. Harry’s going to be frightened off,” he mutters, squinting at the fresh bruise on his jawline.

“Don’t think Harry’s going to be that concerned with your looks, Lou. I’m sure he wants his boyfriend alive and actually healthy,” Liam says, pulling away some of the blankets to Louis’ bed. Louis grins big at him, not caring that it hurts his face like the dickens.

“Liam, are you about to tuck me in for a nap?” Louis asks, cackling a little and trying to pinch Liam’s cheeks. “Bless you, you are so mothering.” Liam reels his head back, rolls his eyes.

“It’s the least I can do before you march yourself into a death trap later. Now get in, you need to rest. Coach was right,” Liam says, shoving him lightly into bed. Liam’s good on his word and makes sure all the blankets around Louis are tucked in tight. Louis has the briefest feeling of being back in his childhood bedroom, getting tucked in alone, before all his sisters were born. When he falls into a heavy sleep, Liam is still hovering, sitting at his desk chair and keeping an eye on him. Louis sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning a bit. His limbs don’t want to keep still. When he awakens, it’s not to Liam still watching over him, it’s to a tickling feeling on his face. He opens one eye with a groan and then closes it, groaning even louder.

“Lottie, why?” he asks, his voice small under the covers.

“Have you seen yourself lately, Louis? It looks like you fell off a tall tree and hit every branch on the way down. I’m helping,” Lottie says with concern in her voice. Lottie is perched on his bed and Liam is nowhere to be found. Louis wants to give him a piece of his mind for letting her in while she was wielding her bejeweled makeup case. She’s dusting what looks to be pressed powder to the bruise on his jawline. The soft brush tickles and only causes him a little pain.

“Makeup isn’t the answer. Makeup is not how I wanted to wake up. What time is it? Where’s Harry?” Louis asks, sitting up a little too quickly. The room wobbles slightly but the feeling passes. The ache in his ribs makes it tough to prop himself up, but he does it anyway.

“Him, Niall and Zayn are meeting in Zayn’s room. They’re all heading over here in another hour or so. Liam told me you got pummelled so I’m coming to your rescue,” she says. She’s got her huge box of makeup open on his bed, powders and brushes and that shiny stuff she puts on her face to make it sparkle strewn out all over the covers. She reaches for something liquid and starts pressing it to the area around his lip.

“Lottie, making me look prettier isn’t necessary,” he protests.

“We need you to go out there confident, don’t we? Nathan’s hardly going to take you seriously if he knows you bruise like a peach,” Lottie says with a smile. She’s got an intense look of concentration on her face as she dabs various creams on him. A few minutes later she sits back and looks pretty impressed with her own handiwork.

“Am I ready for my closeup?” Louis asks, fluttering his eyelashes. Someone knocks on his door and Lottie turns around just in time to see Harry poking his head in.

“Boyfriend, you’ve come to save me! You’re an hour early, from what I’ve heard,” Louis says, swiping one of Lottie’s hand mirrors to look at himself. She hasn’t done a bad job. He looks a little like one of those plastic ventriloquist dummies, but he’s seen worse. The bruises are decently hidden. His puffy lip is still telling though.

“Thought you were going over last minute details with the boys,” Lottie says as she starts packing up her case. Harry makes a little noise in his throat when he looks at Louis closely.

“Guess footie tryouts went well, didn’t they?” Harry asks, brushing his fingertips very lightly over Louis’ puffy lower lip.

“You don't have much room to talk, Rocky. Lottie, he punched someone in the dining hall this morning. It was brilliant,” Louis says. Lottie just shakes her head at both of them. Louis shrugs and pats the side of his bed where his feet don’t touch.

“Have a seat, Harry. Lottie here was just finishing up my makeup. Nathan got quite a few shots in,” he says, feeling a little more calm now that Harry’s in his presence. Lottie reaches out to smudge a spot on Louis’ face.

“All better. I’m going to bring the case back to my dorm. See you both back here in 45 then?” she asks. Harry nods and Lottie leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Louis plucks a few curls of Harry’s hair between his fingertips and gives his head a few light scratches.

“Come to keep me company, then?” Louis asks. Harry smiles at him, looking at him like Louis isn’t the most pathetic creature he’s ever seen.

“Thought maybe we’d have one last little date before we get to the serious stuff tonight,” Harry says, a little giddy. Louis looks down at his ratty pajamas.

“Sad to say I’m not dressed for anything swanky, love,” Louis says. “What did you have in mind? Snogging’s out. I have a bum lip right now.”

“I thought I’d hold you to that date you promised me the night we kissed for the second time ever. I’m willingly ready to watch the most awful show in the universe with you,” Harry says. Louis’ heart does a little leap. He jumps out of his bed, not caring how much it hurts to breathe.

“Are you saying that you’re ready to dive deep into the land of Tree Hill, North Carolina? I’m not sure if you’re prepared for the drama of it all. It’s basketball and brothers and it’s all very intense,” Louis says, already digging through his DVD cases. He’s got all the seasons of One Tree Hill. His mum bought him one for Christmas each year growing up.

“Give me One Tree Hill, or give me death,” Harry says as he grabs for Louis’ laptop.

“Thought we said no death jokes today,” Louis says, easing the first disc out of the Season One pack. He settles next to Harry then and pops in the DVD, snuggling close. If they only have a little less than an hour to have a hint of normalcy, so be it. The familiar soundtrack plays as the first scenes come to life. Louis feels himself being transported to another world, one where the only murderer on the scene doesn’t truly show his colors until quite a few episodes in. Harry wraps his arm around Louis, careful of his bruises. They sit and watch on the small screen together, happy and safe for just a little longer.


	10. Chapter 10

**H**

 

Harry’s wearing all black. A black turtleneck that he borrowed from Liam (“Mate, I’ve got loads to spare. Louis, shut up, it’s not that weird. You look like a bum...”), black trousers, black trainers, black beanie. If he has to be in stealth mode, then he’s going to do it like he’s in a movie. Louis is dressed more casually, a Wellington soccer shirt and joggers. He claims he doesn’t want to tip Nathan off that anything stranger is going on beyond a continuation of their fight. Lottie and Niall opted for gray outfits, hiding their shocks of blonde hair behind various hats. Liam and Zayn are dressed the same as him. He stares at everyone as they rustle up all the equipment they need. It’s half past 10 and they’re going to have to all move out as a unit, without attracting attention from anyone else in the dorms.  

“Louis, I’m going to test your in-ear one more time. So you’re sure you can hear me?” Zayn asks, speaking into the clipped mic attached to his shirt.

“We’re good there. Liam, you’ve got the camera—make sure it’s on night mode. Niall and Lotts, you two have the tripod and the battery pack. And Harry,” Louis says, his voice softening on Harry’s name. Harry snaps his head up and meets his eyes. “Well, Harry, you just try to blend in when you hide. I know how much you like to make your presence known when murderers are afoot.”

“Go to hell,” Harry says, trying to squash down all his nervous feelings that are bubbling in his stomach. It’s dark in the dorm as they all sneak out. With every step they take and every building they pass, Harry feels a little more like he can’t breathe. Louis hangs back and walks with him, lets the others move ahead. They have to set up all the equipment anyway, make sure they’ll be able to get Louis and Nathan in focus. Louis knocks his hand against Harry’s uninjured one.

“What are you thinking right now?” Louis says in a soft voice. Harry has a thousand things running through his head at the moment so he says the first one to come to mind, the one he feels the strongest.

“I don’t want to lose you. I’m scared that this is going to get out of control, and bigger than us, and it can’t. I really…I think I’m in...” Harry says, tapering off. He bites back some of the other words he could say to Louis. They’ve only known each other a few weeks but he’s fallen for him in the worst way.

“You can finish the sentence, Curly. I won’t bite, unless you want me to,” Louis says, stopping them both from walking farther. The rest of the group carries on, oblivious, wandering to the meeting spot. Harry looks at Louis, _his_ Louis, wonders what exactly he did to deserve someone like him. Someone funny, someone so kind and wonderful and attractive and brave. Louis is smiling at him, that soft little smile and his sparkling eyes lighting up the darkness around them. Harry’s always felt he’s had something missing in his life back in England. He never fit there, never could be comfortable in his skin. Louis came along and it’s like his world shifted into focus. They fit: skin to skin, heart to heart. It’s like he was made for him, like someone carved him out of the stars and dropped him right here.

He feels so fortunate to have met Louis, despite the circumstances. He loves him, is _in_ love with him he thinks. He’s pretty sure. Has never said it to anyone ever, not in a romantic way. But there it is. This boy in front of him who’s about to risk his life is someone he’s always going to need to stay in his orbit.

“It’s nothing, it was nothing,” Harry says, hating himself for being a coward. Louis might not love him back. He has no way to know, no way to gauge. Of course, he tells himself, maybe Louis has been telling him he loves him by the way they touch or the way they kiss or the way he humors his baking addiction and the way he’s so fiercely protective.

“I think you’re lying to me, Harry. You’ve got something locked up behind those lips and you’re going to have to spit it out,” Louis says, giving him a light kiss on his forehead. Harry closes his eyes, wishes they could just suspend time here instead. No need to move on to the final act, the grand finale can wait. Everything can pause.

“Juliana offered to help me find a job next semester at The Chocolate Fable,” Harry blurts out. This is not what he wants to say, but it’ll have to do. Louis’ eyebrows arch like he wasn’t expecting that sentence from Harry. Louis puts an arm around him, nudges him to start walking again.

“That’s great, Harry. Will be good experience, yeah?” Louis says, a tiny hint of disappointment folded into his voice. Harry wonders if he knows, even now, what he was going to say. Louis reaches in his pocket as they walk closer to the library and pulls out a cigarette.

“Stress smoking, again?” Harry asks. Louis’ face glows as he strikes the lighter and then inhales. He looks worried and tense and Harry wants it all to go away, wants to make it all better for him but he can’t. They’re in this now. Niall, Liam, Lottie and Zayn are setting up shop by the tunnel. Harry reaches over and plucks the still-lit cigarette from Louis’ hands.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, awestruck wonder heavy in his voice. Harry takes a small puff, immediately launches into a coughing fit, and waves the cigarette in front of Louis’ face to take it back.

“Thought I’d try it. How can you stand it?” Harry wheezes. It tastes like it smells and it burns the back of his throat but that one moment bought him a tiny amount of calm. “Just wanted to feel more connected to you before all the shit hits the fan.” Louis whacks him on the back as he coughs again.

“You’re always surprising me, Harry. I really love that about you, you know,” Louis says, ruffling his hair.

“I’m glad you _love_ it about me,” Harry says, rolling the word ‘love’ out long on his tongue. It’s so much easier to say it about some abstract thing instead of a living, breathing person.

“Stop gushing over each other for god's sake and stop fucking around. Get over here. We don’t have much time,” Niall yells to them. The tripod is set up and Liam’s tweaking the camera. Harry has no real role in this, except to just watch from the shrubbery and stay silent, but he feels the need to be involved. Zayn ushers Louis over to where he wants him to stand to make sure the camera can capture it. Harry wants to tear his skin off. Lottie comes over to him and lightly taps her hip against his.

“He’ll be alright, you know,” she murmurs. Harry’s grateful that at least one person thinks this is all going to go swimmingly.

“How can you be so sure?” he asks, pulling his beanie lower on his head. Louis looks relaxed enough from here as he talks to Zayn, but Harry can see the tension in his jaw. He looks like he’s one good shove away from snapping entirely.

“Louis loves a challenge. He loves drama and mystery and he loves being the center of attention. I think he’s got enough acting chops to pull this one off. You believed him with Valentina, didn’t you? Trust me, I’ve seen him talk his way out of anything growing up,” she says, laughing to herself.

“He told me a little bit about growing up in Doncaster. It seems you guys lived a charmed life,” Harry says, happy to have a distraction from what’s happening in front of him at the moment.

“Yes, much like a lot of the other kids here, we grew up with a rich daddy. He’s the worst though, a total bore. Louis wanted out more than anything. When I got old enough, I followed. He really wants nothing to do with that kind of life anymore. I just want him to be happy,” Lottie says. Niall gives a quick shout to make everyone start getting in their positions.

“ _You_ make him happy, Harry. In case you weren’t aware,” Lottie says, quieter than before. Harry gives her a quick hug. She makes a surprised little noise when he wraps his skinny arms around her, but it’s nice. Comforting. A little like the feeling of coming home after a long day.

“Hands off my sister, Curly. This is a very heartwarming movie moment and all, but we need to change the channel to murder mystery,” Louis says, wandering over to where Harry and Lottie are standing. Lottie squeezes Harry on the shoulder and goes off to stand with Niall, who’s looking more pained as every second passes without Nathan showing up. Louis looks Harry up and down, barely unable to suppress his grin.

“What?” Harry asks. Niall is gesticulating at him to go hide but Harry doesn’t want to leave yet. Leaving means it’ll be real.

“It’s nice you and my sister get along. I think Niall is about to have a heart attack if you don’t go to your designated hiding place, Harold,” Louis says, resting his hands on Harry’s hips. Harry can hear Niall whispering at him now.

“Hubert Edward Styles, please go launch yourself into the nearest bush immediately before you blow our cover,” Niall hisses. Harry holds up his hand to pause Niall for just a second, to buy himself a little more time. Louis pulls him closer.

“This tunnel brings back some memories, huh?” Harry says. Louis laughs, shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m embarrassed at my behavior before I met you. I’m embarrassed at some of my behavior even after I met you. Let’s pretend it never happened after tonight,” Louis says.

“Deal. Do I get a good luck kiss before you go?” Harry asks, a little hopeful. Louis presses up on his tiptoes and gently kisses Harry, only wincing a tiny bit from his puffy lip. Harry wants to capture this moment and put it in a frame. Louis is backing away from him too quickly and before he knows it, Louis has gone over to the stone wall right outside the tunnel. Harry ducks into one of the hedge bushes nearby (not the one he was in before, it’s too macabre) and makes note of where the others are located. If Nathan’s not looking too closely over this way, he’ll never see any of them. Liam and Zayn are manning the camera and in-ear mic. Harry has to smirk a little at that, at Liam always putting himself right next to Zayn. Lottie and Niall are both well-hidden in separate areas. At any moment, any one of them could run and tackle Nathan as needed.

Harry holds his breath and wonders what time it is. It’s got to be close now and he has a very deja vu feeling wash over him. The shrubs against his skin are making him itch but he knows he can’t move a muscle. He’s helpless to do anything until they get some kind of working confession on tape. He tries silently sending good vibes to Louis from his mind, staring right at him in the hopes that he’ll feel them. The grass on the campus lawn around Admin is shiny with dew, much like it was on the night Mariah died. Harry shudders at the memory of her falling body, remembers the way he cried out. Tonight, this night, he has to stay silent. It’s life or death for Louis this time, there’s no other way to look at it.

Louis lights up another cigarette, a bright flame sparking and casting some shadow on the wall behind him. He’s leaning against the wall, casually puffing along. All is quiet. All is still. Harry can spot the anxiety all over everyone’s faces from where they hide. Liam is sweating where he’s manning the camera, which is a feat because it’s bloody freezing out again. Harry watches Zayn put a comforting hand on the small of Liam’s back. They whisper to each other, too quiet for Harry to make out any words.

When Nathan approaches, it’s obvious. Louis’ entire being changes, he goes from a relaxed lean to standing tall with his chest puffed out as much as he can. Louis’ gaze is fixed on someone Harry can’t see yet. When Nathan finally comes into view, Harry struggles to place him as the boy he saw in the yearbook. It’s much different seeing a monster in black and white, locked on a page, opposed to walking and talking out in the real world. Harry gulps quietly, desperate for action. Then Louis speaks.

 

**L**

 

So this is how he dies then, this is really it. He can see the mad glint in Nathan’s eye from here. He’s walking towards him slowly, emerging from the shadows, and it’s not like he can run now. He’s the one who so ardently signed himself up for this but fuck it, he thinks he wants out. Bravery be damned. He can’t even spare a glance over to the hedge bush where Harry’s hiding. It’d give them all away if he even so much as looked anywhere else but right here, right in front of him, deep into the belly of this beast. Nathan looks worse in the dark than he does on the footie pitch. At least at football, he was just recklessly violent in a fairly harmless, fratboy way. Now, though, no one’s here to stop him. No one’s here to pull him off.

“I see you weren’t too much of a pussy to show,” Nathan drawls. Louis hates him. He hates everything he stands for, hates what he’s managed to get away with.

“I think we both know why I’m here,” Louis says, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out with his foot. Hard. Nathan cocks his head at that, laughs a little to himself. It sends a shiver directly down Louis’ spine. The sound of Zayn’s voice in his ear startles him for a moment and he hates that Nathan takes this as a reaction of him being scared.

“You’re doing great Louis,” Zayn whispers. “Just keep him talking. Maybe raise your voice a little, we’re picking it up but it can always be louder, yeah?” Louis takes a shuddery breath and steels himself, waits for whatever comes next.

“I’ve been waiting a while, Louis. You’re never alone much, know that?” Nathan asks.

“Can’t help it I’m popular, Nathan,” Louis says loudly. If he just continues to lead with a little sarcasm, maybe he can get out of this alive. Nathan shifts from foot to foot. It makes him a little uneasy to watch. He doesn’t know if he’s gonna swing or if he’s gonna keep talking. Nathan steps closer to him, a touch of moonlight hitting his face and bringing him more into focus. His face twists in disgust at Louis.

“I see the beating I gave you earlier hardly did a thing. What the fuck is on your face?” Nathan asks him, cracking his knuckles.

“Stop trying to distract me. If you’re here to just punch me again, you’re in the wrong place. I think we need to talk about the notes,” Louis says. He’s going for it. Zayn hasn’t explicitly told him to do this, but so what? They can dance around each other all night or he can attempt to end this right after all.

“Easy, Louis,” Zayn says in his ear. Louis flicks his fringe out of his face and stares down Nathan. He looks like someone maybe caught in a lie.

“This why you were asking about my fucking handwriting earlier?” Nathan asks him.

“Obviously. Now granted, I know my note was the _second_ one you wrote. I have to say, Nathan, I felt a little left out of the fun,” Louis says. Nathan narrows his eyes at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responds. Louis tilts his head back and laughs. This is almost fun, trying to drag this out of him. There’s a bit of static in his ear and then Liam’s mumbling voice comes in loud and clear.

“Louis, it’s Liam. Zayn let me take over for a second. Don’t push him so hard. I saw him on the pitch, you don’t know what he’s prone to do,” Liam says. Louis can picture him and Zayn fighting for the mic and he bites back a tiny smile. He directs his attention back to Nathan again.

“You gave Harry the first one. You know Harry, my boyfriend? You probably remember him pretty well. Think you saw him first when we were out here. Was wearing a horrifically ridiculous dressing gown and being too fucking loud,” Louis says, inching closer to Nathan. He hopes Harry rolls his eyes at that one. Louis isn’t going to break his gaze, no matter how much he maybe wants to. Nathan is about five inches taller than him, and has more muscle than he’d ever dream to have. He knows full well what he’s capable of.

“You better shut your mouth, you little punk. If you’re trying to accuse me of something, it’s not gonna work. You can’t prove a thing about any notes. No one’s going to believe you,” Nathan says. Zayn sing-songs in his ear at that.

“Course you can. We’ve got the photos to prove it,” Zayn says.

“You’re sure about that? Notes aside, tell me, what’s it like for you being back here? Another dark night, no one but us around. Thinking about finishing the job now, Nathan? I know we’re not on top of a building or anything but you could probably knock me down pretty hard,” Louis says. He grits his teeth, tenses his body. Nathan could lash out at any moment. Instead, he just looks dead inside. Glassy eyes, empty stare. It’s creepy as hell.

“You keep running your mouth, I’m gonna knock you out Tomlinson. I’m going to need to ask you a very important question right now,” Nathan says in a low voice, drifting closer to Louis. Too close. Louis’ heart quickens to double-time as Nathan crowds him up against the stone wall. He hopes the cameras and audio equipment can pick him up still.

“Stay calm, Louis. Just hang in there,” Zayn says. Louis tries to believe him and go with it, but Nathan looks a little too subdued. His actions are directly conflicting with the tone of his voice.

“Who knows about it?” Nathan asks him point-blank.

“Knows about what, Nathan? You’re confusing the shit out of me so I’m going to need you to be more clear,” Louis says.

“That’s it Louis, just lead him. Get him to say it. We need him to say it,” Zayn whispers. Louis keeps his eyes on Nathan’s. They’re dark, almost black. Nothing like Harry’s, nothing comforting to be found in them. Just empty.

“You’ve put two and two together somehow, I don’t fucking know how. But tell me who knows? If it’s just you and your boyfriend, I can take care of both of you like that,” Nathan says, snapping his fingers. Louis flinches and hates himself for it. He can’t show any weakness. Not right now.

“So do it then. Do it just like you did with Mariah, you bloody idiot,” Louis says, his voice flat. He hears Zayn groan in his ear. Nathan looks more murderous as the minutes tick on. Louis isn’t sure what he’s doing, what he’s hoping to accomplish right this second. If he can just keep pushing Nathan, push him before he finally makes good on his threat, that’d be enough.

“I will. I’ll kill you and _no one_ will think twice. Then Styles, too. You think this is my first rodeo? Hardly,” Nathan says, reaching slowly for something in his pocket. Louis hadn’t thought this far into the situation when they dreamed up this plan. He hadn’t counted on Nathan bringing any kind of weapon. Louis puts his hands up, figures maybe he can reason with him.

“Okay we’ve at least got threats to you and Harry on tape. Just try to keep him talking Louis. Try to get him to talk more about Mariah before he does anything,” Zayn says in a rush. Louis is struggling to keep the conversations straight, frankly. There’s a lot going on between him, Nathan, Zayn and Liam.

“Before you end my brief, albeit quite fantastic, life… I won’t be able to go willingly until you tell me what happened. What happened with Mariah, Nathan?” Louis shouts, the cold stones against his back chilling him to the core. Nathan’s got a shiny little penknife that he’s now turning over in his hand. An evil smile ghosts over his face and he flicks the blade from open to closed.

“Is that a fucking knife? Fucking _shit_. Louis, you’re doing great. We’ve got Liam ready to tackle as needed. Just… fuck. We need him to say he killed her. We need that part. I really hope he doesn’t do anything,” Zayn says, sounding on the brink of tears. Louis truly hopes they’re getting all of this on tape right now, every bleeding second of it. If he ends up knifed, he at least wants there to be evidence so someone can get some good revenge.

“You really want to know? Let me tell you a little story, _Lewis_. For some reason, girls just really like to wrong me. They cheat, bro...or they move on from me too quickly, or they insult me. You feel me? Those bitches just never respect me,” Nathan says, leering.

“I feel you… dude,” Louis says, nodding at Nathan.

“Chick at my last school disrespected me, I took care of it. Same goes for Mariah. Thought she was better than me. Thought I was the problem, right? Tried to dump me, talked to her friends about how much she missed being single. So I took matters into my own hands,” Nathan says. Louis can tell he’s on a roll now, he’s damn near gloating about the whole thing.

“So that’s when you decided you’d had enough then?,” Louis asks, trying to make his voice as loud as it can go. “Fuck all the girls who ever did _you_ wrong, right Nathan? So walk me through it. The night I saw you up on that roof. Fucking tell me before you kill me, I swear to God,” Louis says through clenched teeth. He feels wild. He feels out of control. He’s never wanted a confession dragged out so badly. Nathan flicks his knife open and begins edging it, closer and closer, over a bit of flesh exposed near Louis’ shirt collar. His pulse is loud and wild, erratic to his ears. Zayn’s saying something but he can’t hear anymore, he just prays this isn’t the last moment of his life.

“I pushed that bitch off the roof because she had it coming, man. Sucks that you and your boyfriend just happened to see. When I finish killing you, I’m going for him next. That motherfucker with the weird hair… no one will ever suspect a thing. This school’s a lot of pressure. Everyone knows it. That’s how he’ll go. It’ll be another tragic suicide. And _you_ , now,” Nathan says, pressing the knife just that much further into the side of Louis’ neck until he draws the smallest bit of blood.

Everything happens in slow motion then, to Louis. A yell sounds from his far right and Niall is running across the lawn like a bullet and tackles Nathan like a professional NFL player. Louis collapses then, his limbs feeling like jelly. Liam is close behind, screaming and jumping on top of Niall. He can hear Lottie on the phone to 911, her voice frantic. Zayn stays with Lottie, coaching her on what to say over the phone and generally keeping an eye on everyone. And then there’s Harry, his Harry, launching himself out of the hedge and pouncing directly on top of Louis. Harry’s kissing his face, kissing his neck, inspecting the spot where Nathan cut him. Louis can’t even move, just lays there staring up at the sky with Harry hovering over him.

“You’re okay, Louis. Jesus, we got him. We bloody got him!” Harry yells, kissing him again and hugging Louis to his body. Harry smacks his face a little, trying to break him out of his trance.

“It’s over,” Louis whispers, coming to his senses a little bit. His neck hurts a bit but Nathan didn’t cut him deep. A superficial wound.

“You fucking wanker twat dickhead murderer, Nathan. You’re going to rot in fucking jail,” Louis screams, a burst of energy running through his body again. He’s nearly got tears in his eyes when he looks at Harry. No one’s ever looked at him back with so much sweetness.

“I’m so glad we didn’t lose you, that I didn’t lose you,” Harry whispers, brushing some of Louis’ hair out of his face.

“Hey Harry,” Louis says quietly. There are sirens in the distance, taking him right back to that first night. It’s happening all over again, this time with more yelling and a lot more tackling.

“Hey Louis,” Harry says back, just as quietly. The night is pierced with sound around them but Louis can’t think of any better opportunity to get this final bit of weight off his chest.

“I think I’m quite in love with you. Thought I should tell you since I suffered a near-death experience today and am a tiny bit woozy,” Louis says, a little bit of a blush rising to his face. Harry looks so relieved in this moment. Louis glances over to see Lottie smiling at them where she stands with Zayn. Niall and Liam have Nathan’s face pressed into the grass, which is totally amazing. Harry brings him back to the present, presses a long kiss to his lips.

“I love you too. Don’t ever try to get yourself killed again, yeah?” Harry murmurs, kissing him again. Louis breathes into it, doesn’t even care if they’ll soon have a bigger audience of cops and school staff. Harry helps him get up, takes his hand and doesn’t let go. They stand on the grass, overlooking the scene, and Louis lets his head droop onto Harry’s shoulder. Liam keeps looking backwards to check on Louis and he gives him a thumbs up. Lottie crushes Louis and Harry both in a hug. Niall’s cackle of laughter rings out louder than the approaching sirens as the cops pull up.

They all stand together once the cops cuff Nathan. It’s enough just to tell them that he sprung a knife on Louis. Nathan glares at all of them as he’s lowered into one of the squad cars. Zayn does most of the talking, with Liam at his side with his arm around his shoulders, as they explain all the rest. They hand over the tapes, the audio, and there will be questioning soon for all of them. Louis is certain that this time, his mum will be calling both him and Lottie to chew them out for this whole mess. But he’s glad that it can be settled now, that life at school might return to some kind of new normal.

He has no idea what’s to happen to him and Harry in the coming months before he graduates. He has no idea if Zayn and Liam are going to get their heads out of their arses and get together, doesn’t know what Niall or Lottie will do with their time now that murder isn’t taking up half their brainspace. But he’s happy to be alive right now, anyway. Happy that Mariah’s family might get a little closure, that maybe some other girl’s parents at a different school may get the same.

“I vote tomorrow morning, we all get breakfast at The Buttered Biscuit. Lottie, it’s time we share our go-to spot with the group,” Louis says in a moment of quiet amongst the chaos.

“Sounds good to me. I’m dying for tea right now. It’s gonna be a long night,” Lottie mutters. Harry presses against Louis and squeezes him round the middle.

“Please tell me they have good tea there. I love good tea almost as much as I love you,” Harry says in his ear. “Also, can we talk about Nialler,” he continues in a louder voice. “Niall, your bum leg. It’s like it never happened. I’ve never seen you sprint so fast.”

“Listen you all can give me shit about the leg all you want, but I wasn’t about to let Louis get cut open like some kind of Jack the Ripper situation. Fuck,” Niall says with a laugh.

“Hey, I ran too. Louis, I ran too. You saw me,” Liam says, craning to meet Louis’ eyes. Zayn laughs at that, tugs Liam a little closer since he never has stopped keeping his arm around him.

“Liam, you saved the day. _I’m_ impressed. Let me buy you breakfast tomorrow? Maybe even dinner?” Zayn asks. Louis holds his breath, tries not to die laughing at Liam’s face as it shifts from tan to scarlett in four seconds flat.

“Would really like that, Zayn. Dinner. I love food. Eating it,” Liam says, tripping over his words. The night around them is cold and Louis sees one of the cops motioning at their group to follow him. They all shuffle over in a line and Louis can’t help but be so grateful to have each and every one of these people in his life. If the rest of the school year ends up topping all this, he’ll be golden. Harry gives his hand a gentle squeeze as they all start loading into the squad cars.

“No matter what comes after this, just remember I love you,” Harry whispers before he ducks his head and settles into the seat next to Niall. Louis moves in next to him and they’re whisked away, off the Wellington campus and heading towards the police station this time. Turns out, a real murder requires a real investigation. The moment isn’t perfect, the night has been wild but Louis couldn’t be happier to be loved, and to be in love.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! This is the first fic I've written for the 1D fandom, and I really hope you liked it! Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Find me on [Tumblr](http://hazzayoudoing.tumblr.com/) here.
> 
> Special thanks, snaps and high fives to the fab friends of chat who listened to me talk about this fic for months. Ellie, thanks for pushing me to do this. I owe the end of my writing-hiatus to you.


End file.
